


Second Chances

by LadyJaneGrey92



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-07-10 06:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 219,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15943226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJaneGrey92/pseuds/LadyJaneGrey92
Summary: A "wibbly wobbly, timey wimey" tale containing many adventures for Victoria & her Lord M, in which they get to explore history firsthand, and their own feelings for each other along the way.  Fair warning--while the author has a deep respect for history, along with a passion for historical accuracy in many things, it is the intention of this work to deliberately break away from the tyranny of it with respect to a certain pair of star-crossed lovers in particular. This is in no way a guarantee of a happy or sad ending and should not be viewed as such.  Rather, it is the hope of the author that the reader can view the history of Victoria and Lord M as entirely open and unwritten.  Their future is not yet decided absolutely, and all is yet to be played for.  Other disclaimers--be warned that the laws of time and the universe in general may not always be as binding in this tale as we are accustomed to.  Also, some degree of poetic license may be claimed in the portrayal of some supporting characters.  That is the fun of fiction, after all.  Oh, and one other thing: this fic stars Jenna Coleman as Victoria and Rufus Sewell as Lord Melbourne, featuring Cate Blanchett as Elizabeth I and Cary Elwes as Brian of Medway.





	1. Wishes on a Star

**Author's Note:**

> "I wish I didn't feel so strong about you/Like happiness and love revolve around you/Trying to catch your heart is like trying to catch a star..." ("Waiting for a Star to Fall", Boy Meets Girl, 1988)
> 
> To set the stage, readers will probably remember Victoria's birthday party in Season 1, where Lord M gifts her a telescope for her birthday, and on the little card enclosed, told her he felt she would "benefit by studying the heavens". Not long after, we see Victoria seated near a window at night, looking up at the stars through her new telescope in a most introspective mood. Edited into this we see Lord M at Dover House, in his dressing gown, surrounded by documents and unable to concentrate. It is important to note that Victoria has not yet made her infamous visit to Brockett Hall to propose to Lord M. This is where our story begins.

 

Victoria closed her new telescope with a snap, cradling it thoughtfully in her arms. What a beautiful present it had been. She caressed it’s cool, smooth surface, her thoughts on the man who had gifted her with it for her birthday, and the conversation they had had while on their customary ride in the park not two days’ hence.

“I do not think I ever thanked you properly for my birthday present, Lord M. It was by far the best present I have ever received.”

“I am very glad you liked it, Ma’am. I have often found that when I am flummoxed or distressed, stargazing is most beneficial to the steadying of my spirits.”

She’d looked askance at her riding partner, so handsome and so tall in his dark blue riding coat, bottle green waistcoat and fawn colored breeches, wearing his impeccable top hat perched just over his ears. He had turned his golden green gaze on her, and her breath had caught in her throat. No man in all of Europe looked so elegant and dashing in a top hat as William Lamb, Viscount Lord Melbourne, Prime Minister of England and her Private Secretary. Indeed, no man in Europe was as handsome as Lord M anyway, no matter what he chose to wear. But today, with the sun hitting his eyes in just that way, and turning them as luminous and golden as a tiger’s, he was perfectly resplendent.

His expression was his usual brand of insouciant good humor, and then something else bubbled up to the surface like the bubbles in a champagne glass. Something softer. It was a particular look she had noted that he reserved for only her, and then only when no one else was looking. Sometimes it was there for an instant only, appearing in a flash when she would meet his eyes across a crowded room, perhaps, or at dinner. But when they were alone, he would allow it to stay quite openly on his face and permit her to gaze upon him for much longer periods of time. It was a look of…admiration and respect, mixed with tenderness and affection. It felt intimate, and made her glow inside and out. She could simply drown in his eyes when he looked at her like that.

And he was looking at her like that now.

As usual, she was much affected, and could not think what to say right away. So to cover for her awkwardness, she had turned her attention back to the path through the forest. They were quite alone on their ride, of course. She always insisted that it be so. Sometimes though, she almost wished for company, so aware was she of his sheer male attractiveness. It left her uneasy and overwhelmed, but rather fascinated at the same time. She flexed her gloved fingers as she held the reigns of her mare. He was such a beautiful man, it made one’s fingers positively itch to touch him.

She had the distinct impression he was teasing her today with his words, but one could never be entirely certain. He was always one step ahead of her in most everything, and his manner was always so droll.

Finally she turned back to him and arched an eyebrow at him in response.

“Stargazing? Indeed, Lord M? Your range of hobbies never ceases to amaze me.”

“Ah well, like most of my hobbies, I don’t have much time to indulge it. Still, there is tranquility there, among the heavens. I find it soothing to know there is life, of a sort, above the petty concerns of mankind. The contemplation of it all makes me feel appropriately small and insignificant. What are we compared to such timelessness? The perspective, I find, brings me peace.”

“Yes. I suppose it does.” She had said simply. Sometimes the greatness of his thoughts puzzled her, but she did not wish him to see it. The last thing she wanted him to think was that she was simple, or in some way too unsophisticated to understand him. She wanted him to continue to speak to her as though she could. She filed it away for further contemplation later.

“You do not think such thoughts to be in any way too…romantic, Ma’am?”

She had looked at him sharply. There was some…inflection in the word ‘romantic’ that had caught her attention. An almost shyness in the way he had spoken it. But by the time she had glanced up at him, his face was once again a mask of urbane sophistication, betraying nothing.

“I suppose they are, a little. But I do not see that there is anything wrong with that.”

He had smiled. “Perhaps that’s why we get on so well, Ma’am. We share a propensity towards romantic sentiment that is almost always unappreciated by others.”

“Yes, indeed,” she had returned his smile. She liked to think they shared something in common that was special to just them. Like a secret. “I confess I had not considered the heavens overmuch before your gift to me, Lord M. But now I find the study of them to be most absorbing. It is astonishing how close the stars look when gazing through a telescope. As if one could reach up and snatch a handful for oneself. And they are most beautiful.”

“Most beautiful indeed,” he had said softly.

She could feel his eyes on her but she dared not look at him for the red flush she already felt rising in her cheeks. She felt, suddenly, very unaccountably shy.

“Have you ever seen a shooting star, Ma’am? They look like a streak of light, blazing across the sky.”

“No, I have not!”

“Ah, well. They are particularly rare. But seen through a telescope, quite remarkable. They say if you see one, you should make a wish upon it, right away. And whatever you wish will come to pass.”

“Have you ever seen such a star?”

“Only once.”

“Did you make a wish upon it?”

“I did. And yes, it came true. Although, I was only a small boy at the time and my wish was not so very unusual. So I am not entirely certain it bears any great testimony to the practice.”

“What did you wish for?”

He had looked askance at her, amusement in his eyes.

“An extra helping of pudding for dinner.”

She had laughed most indelicately, and he had laughed along with her, an explosion of mirth that made her laugh all the more.

“I keep hoping for another chance, one day,” he’d said. “Next time, I’m determined not to waste it.”

“What should you wish for this time?” She’d asked.

He’d given her one of his inscrutable looks. “A very special favor indeed.”

“But not one you wish to share with me?”

“Oh no, you mustn’t ever share. Not until it’s come true, you see. Otherwise you may not receive your wish at all.”

“Is that why you gave me your spyglass? So that I could wish upon shooting stars?”

“Perhaps not entirely. But maybe it shall serve as a symbol in years to come of our…friendship, Ma’am. And perhaps also it will be a reminder to you not to let the little things of this world disturb your equilibrium.”

She smiled at the memory. Dearest Lord M! Would he ever know how dear he truly was to her? How close she held him in her heart? She cradling his beautiful gift in her arms, relishing its cool smoothness in her hands, and gazed out of her window again. Perhaps he was at Dover House right now, gazing at the same heavens she was, and thinking about her. It gave her comfort to think it. As if there was a golden thread that ran between them, a connection that could not be broken, and one of them had to but pluck the line the way one plucks a harp string, for the other to feel them there, sharing the same desires and dreams.

What would Lord M wish for, she wondered, if he saw a shooting star?

Probably not the same as her own.

She sighed.

A movement from the corner of her eyes caught her attention. She raised her telescope to see a blaze of light, streaking across the night sky. Was that a shooting star? Taking no chances, she closed her eyes tightly and made her wish.

What happened next, she did not expect.

 

*                                               *                                                          *

 

William Lamb, Viscount Lord Melbourne, Second of that title, sat alone in his dressing gown on the settee in his library at Dover House, pouring himself yet another brandy, his thoughts trending in a predictable direction. Indeed, he’d been able to think of little else for the past several months.

Who was he fooling? He’d thought of nothing else.

Or at least, no one.

He picked up his papers, determined to get some work done. He prided himself that he was a fairly well disciplined man in these matters, but his mind tonight kept wandering back to a certain vivacious little bundle of Queen, with eyes the color of sapphires, and a face that would doubtless rival Helena of Troy in the amount of havoc she was apt to wreak on the hearts of men within the course of her lifetime.

She’d been at least that much trouble to him already.

Was she asleep by now? Or was she as restless as he himself was tonight?

He could imagine her now…sitting near her window at the palace, looking indescribably beautiful, with that girlish wonder stamped all over her face, his telescope cradled in her dainty little hands, gazing up at the heavens, searching for a shooting star. It was a foolish notion. But of course, Victoria brought out every last once of his romantic sensibilities, no matter how foolish. At least she never thought him so. It was nice to be appreciated for one’s most appalling frailties.

Speaking of frailties…

What he wouldn’t give to trade places with his old telescope now. Or even her little Dash, whom he envied every day of his life for the privilege he enjoyed of sitting in his mistress’s lap while she fondled his ears and fed him choice cuts of meat from her own plate. He closed his eyes briefly, indulging himself in the contemplation of what her delicate little hands would feel like pressed against his chest, or wrapped around him in an embrace. Perhaps stroking his cheek. Or grasping something a bit further down…

He opened his eyes and shook off the notion violently. To have such indecent thoughts about his Queen was tantamount to treason. She trusted him, believed in him, placed her monarchy and the government of the country in his hands. To repay her by entertaining such lewd notions was a betrayal of the grossest kind.

And yet…

She made him feel things he’d not felt in so long. Things he’d thought were long dead inside of him. In her company, he could almost feel he was her age again. Just gazing upon her made him feel young, brash, energetic…

Passionate…

Foolish.

And the way she looked at him, it was as if she saw him that way too. That there was no great difference in their ages. Their mutual affection and meeting of the minds had built a bridge across a vast, yawning chasm of years and made it so it simply didn’t exist.

But it did exist. It was only one of the barriers between them that they both chose to ignore. To what he very much feared would be their mutual detriment, unless he himself at least remembered it.

With a sigh he reached for his glass again and swallowed the contents in one great mouthful. His vision was so glazed now from too much brandy and woolgathering that he no longer even saw the papers in front of him, let alone could read them.

God in heaven, he was a pathetic, love-struck old fool. He’d be composing poetry to her next. Perhaps he’d don a long black cape to go with it, and with an affected limp and a super-inflated opinion of himself, go sweeping into her drawing room theatrically and present his words to her in the most exaggerated, overwrought scene he could possibly conjure. And then, once she’d swooned dramatically into his arms, immediately carry her away to his bed.

God knows it had worked well enough for others. Why not him?

Perhaps if he’d done a bit more of that in the past, things would have been better, he thought darkly. Perhaps there was something in the female psyche that needed such overinflated affirmations of love, and he’d just been too blind to recognize it.

Another swallow of brandy. Such thoughts were pointless now. And all concerned parties, save himself, dead and gone.

His thoughts returned to the living. And to his Queen.

Not that she didn’t deserve poetry, by all means. Books and books of the stuff, by a poet far more adept than he or that flake Byron, could never do her justice. There were some things so perfect that not even poetry in its most rigid and idealized form could capture its essence. No. Even Shakespeare would have had his work cut out for him, trying to compose a sonnet to Victoria.

He stood and crossed the room, grateful at least that she could not see the state of his personal disarray right now. What would she think to see him now? His old dressing gown hung about his shoulders and he was jacket-less, cravat-less, waistcoat undone, his shirt open at the neck and hanging out of his breeches at odd angles, and he needed a shave. He looked a disreputable mess. Nothing like her heroic Lord M. Gazing out over his front garden, he looked up again at the stars. If he had one wish he could make now…

He shook himself hard, as if to shake off the notion. Utterly foolish, sentimental rubbish. He sat down again on his settee. He really must get something done. Mooning about like a schoolboy over a woman he couldn’t have was beneath his dignity at his age. Or at the very least, should be. And besides, he had affairs of state to deal with.

Another swig of brandy, and he’d reached the bottom of his glass. Reaching for his decanter, he found that nearly empty as well. Ballocks. He really was beginning to empty these at an appalling rate—earlier and earlier every night. At this rate, he’d drink himself through his very excellently stocked cellar by the end of the year. He poured the dregs into his glass and downed it in one gulp. Not that it helped. Brandy, no matter how fine, was a poor substitute for a woman. And if he was brutally honest with himself, it was a woman he wanted—no, needed—badly. One particular woman. And all the brandy in the world could not make up for the fact that he could not have her.

He wiped his mouth carelessly with the back of one hand as he put the glass and decanter down. No doubt about it, he was feeling it tonight—both the effects of the brandy and his growing, gnawing hunger for Victoria. Good thing she was not here. She would not be safe in his company in this compromised state, and in this frame of mind.

His treasonous thoughts returned. What he wouldn’t give to back her into a quiet, dark alcove in some lonely wing of the palace and give her what he strongly suspected would be her first ever kiss. Followed very closely by her first ever…

Bloody hell!

He needed to get a grip on his libido.

Adding to it all, it had been months since he’d lain with a woman at all, which was a damned unhealthy state of affairs in and of itself. It would be the best thing he could do for himself, he knew. It would make the rest of it so much easier to bear.

Except he couldn’t stand the thought of touching anyone but her.

It felt like a betrayal, not just of her, but of himself as well, as well as damned unfair to the lady in question. His own heart could not abide it. And so, he languished in this intolerable state of limbo, unable to truly have what he wanted and needed from her, but equally unable to seek it elsewhere either. Thus, as his need grew, his thoughts became wilder, and harder to control.

There could be but one outcome to this. He knew it too well. His position was as pitiful as it was hopeless. Again.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He squinted out the window. By God…was that a shooting star? He’d not seen one since he was a lad of less than twelve, and yet there it was, streaking across the London sky.

It was a foolish notion, but he was, after all, a fool. And one with nothing to lose at that. Closing his eyes, he wished his impossible wish.

What happened next, he did not expect.


	2. Chapter 2--Stranded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be careful what you wish for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Standing here helpless  
> Where do I go if you leave me alone?  
> Where do I turn now if it don't work out?  
> As far as I can see, this isn't the way that you said, it would be..."  
> ("Stranded" by Heart, 1990)

 

Chapter 2

 

Victoria shivered. It was unaccountably cold in her room. She reached out for the bed covers but could not find them. Dash, she thought with a sigh. He’d probably taken her discarded bedclothes and made himself a snug little nest at the edge of her bed again. She sat up, blinking, to find she was not in her bed.

Nor was she in her palace.

Nor even indoors.

Nor even in proper clothes.

Wide awake now, she hugged her arms across her chest, from cold and shame in equal measure. It was so cold she could see her breath on the air. She stumbled to her feet, shivering.

She had no idea where she was, or how she’d gotten there.

She would not give in to panic.

Blinking in the semidarkness, she tried calmly to survey her surroundings. From the look and smell of things, she thought she must be in London, but how had she ended up deposited in the middle of a deserted street? And what part of London was she actually in?

She turned in a circle, taking her bearings with grim determination. She didn’t recognize this part of the city. On either side, the long, continuous rows of timber beam constructed buildings had two successive stories each that protruded farther and farther out over the street. The effect was one of menacing claustrophobia, as if the buildings were somehow looming over her, surrounding her on all sides for some mischievous purpose of their own. She shivered. She simply could not imagine how she had arrived at such a desolate place.

Someone had betrayed her. There was no other conceivable explanation.

The thought left her colder than the chill of the air around her. Who on earth would do such a thing? Not even Sir John Conroy and her mother were capable of such a reprehensible act. Uncle Cumberland, perhaps. But certainly he would have found a much less direct, much more humiliating method to divest himself of her? Deposing her outright, or denouncing her as mad in order to form a ridiculous regency was much more in keeping with his character. Kidnapping, after all, was an outright criminal action, no matter who the unfortunate victim happened to be. How much more grievous to kidnap your Queen? It was far too risky a plan. Uncle Cumberland would never stoop to any action that might in some way attach consequences to himself. No. No matter how much he must currently be celebrating her predicament, he would never have engineered it.

Well then. Whomever had deposited her here, had taken off again, and left her quite on her own to freely walk about. It was an odd sort of kidnapping, she reflected. Why not secure her in some hidden place instead? Wasn’t that how such matters were typically approached?

Well, one thing about it, she was still the Queen, nightdress or no nightdress. Why she was here, or who was responsible, was less important now than finding her way home again. Recriminations could be saved for later, when she was once again properly attired and comfortably ensconced in her own palace. And then, she reflected bitterly, recriminations would most certainly be addressed. In the strongest possible terms.

She stumbled through the thick fog on numb feet in the direction of a pair of male voices. From their accent she took them to be of the lower orders. Still, they were her subjects, were they not? Therefore they were duty-bound to lend her aid. She hardly had a choice in any case, given that they seemed to be the only other souls anywhere near her.

She followed the sound of their voices down the street and around a corner, where she came upon them finally in an alley.

“Excuse me, Sirs,” she said, pausing not at all before inserting herself into their conversation. “I require assistance.”

Both men turned and looked at her in one motion, and for a moment Victoria faltered. Perhaps being so direct had not been quite so wise after all. They appeared to be ruffians, quite possibly bent on some nefarious errand. Unfortunately there was no possibility of retreat now, so she stood her ground, notching her chin upwards and raising herself to her full height. Ruffians or not, surely they would recognize their Queen, and come to her assistance. For how could they dare to do otherwise?

Both pairs of eyes looked her up and down, took in her state of undress and unbound hair, then gave each other a knowing nod.

“Well, well, well, what ‘ave we ‘ere?” One of them advanced toward her, gazing uncomfortably at her figure. He was a stoutish man, with unkempt dark hair that stuck out from under his slouch cap like the bristles of a broom. “Very nice li’ul piece, and no mistake. Eh, ‘Arry?”

“Very nice,” the one called Harry agreed. He was just as rumpled as his companion, with a dirty face and three prominent teeth missing, the rest an unattractive shade of brown. He also advanced toward her, looking boldly up and down her body. “What kind of assistance be ye requiring, Mistress?” He said, placing one hand on his…oh dear. “’Ave no fear. Tom an’ me ‘ul see ye rightly done by!” He leered at her.

The one called Tom cackled. “Very rightly done by. Ye’ll have no complaints once we’re done wif ye.”

They were advancing on her. Victoria was shocked and scared, but stood her ground. She would not be cowed by these men. No matter how lewd and ill-mannered.

“Nor will we, niver!”

“Me first,” said Tom, licking his lips. “I’ve not ‘ad such a tasty morsel in too long to count.”

“Naw, she’ll not ‘ave you first, Mate. She likes me. I can see the way she’s looking at me.” He jostled his hand, still situated below his belt line and waggled his tongue at her in a most disgusting display. “You want some of this, don’t ya, Sweeting?”

“Why don’t we bofe ‘ave her?”

“Wha’ togever? At the same time?”

“Why not? She propositioned us bofe, didn’t she?”

“Oh you’d like that, Sweet’art, wouldn’t you? Bofe of us strong lads at once? We’ll have you howling in no time!”

She’d had enough of this. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and took command of the situation.

“You will do no such thing!” She said in her most imperious tone. “Don’t you recognize your Queen when you see her? Cease this contemptible display at once, or we’ll have you both imprisoned in the Tower for treason.”

Once again, both men looked in unison at each other. Then burst into laughter.

“Queen, is it?” Wheezed Tom. “Since when do ‘er Majesty go walking abroad in London at night in naught but ‘er shift?”

“And since when do ‘er Majesty ‘ave dark hair?”

“And be naught but a short, slip of a girl at that?”

“We have always had dark hair,” Victoria said, fighting a sense of growing alarm. “And our age and stature is none of your concern. We require that you provide us safe escort to the palace this instant! It is your plain duty to your sovereign. We expect you to carry it out. Immediately.”

“To the palace, is it?” Tom said with a chuckle.

“Which palace would that be, Majesty?” said Harry, sweeping her an impudent, mocking bow.

“Buckingham Palace, of course,” she replied archly, though by now her heart was hammering with alarm. Do not show fear, she told herself sternly. Queens do not show fear.

Both men again looked at each other, and gave her identical looks of incomprehension.

“Oh Great Majesty, there hain’t no such place,” said Tom. “Would ye prefer Bedlam Palace instead?”

“More like Rosie’s Palace, just up the street,” quipped Harry. “I ‘ear they ‘ave excellent accommodations for royal personages. But mostly that was in Enry’s time, weren’t it?” he snickered. “I mean, your fahver’s time, Your Majesty.”

Her father’s time? Victoria swallowed hard, her pulse hammering and her breath coming fast. What was going on here? Who were these men that they did not recognize her, and thought her mad? Or that they did not know her palace of residence? Or who her father was? She was entirely unaware that some of her subjects were so ignorant. She must at the first opportunity propose a remedy to it.

“P’raps she really is a princess, after all.”

“Aye. Another one of ‘Enry’s bastards, most like.”

Henry again? Who was Henry? Her mind was swirling. Where was she? What was going on? Something cold and hard settled deep in her stomach as her mind rebelled against this whole improbable situation. There must be some logical explanation.

Fear was in her eyes now, she knew. But she had a new battle to fight. As her environs shifted and lurched around her, her overwhelming thought became—Do not faint. Do NOT faint. If you faint, you’re worse than dead before these scurrilous men.

“Aye. E’ were forever siring girls, were ‘Enry. You’d fink a man so bent on ‘oring and killin off wives would finally find one capable of producing a son.”

“Or one as was willin’, more like.”

“Oh I reckon they was willin’, sure enough, if ‘is reputation is to be believed. Oh, but I do beg yer pardon, Your Majesty, if you be findin’ our conversation too coarse for your likin’. Especially as regards your sire.”

The cold, hard lump solidified and almost stopped her heart beating. She gasped for breath. There could be only one Henry who fit such a vile description. Although her mind persisted in rebelling, she had to ask. She had to know what she was facing.

“Henry,” she repeated slowly. “You are referring to Henry the Eighth?”

“Aye,” said Tom, “Oo else?”

Victoria, for the first time, fully took in the two men’s dress. The drab brown jerkins. The ripped brown hose. The…central feature of such a male garment, even when worn by the common folk. The slouch hats. They could have stepped out of a painting depicting ordinary life in the 16th century. Either they were three hundred years out of fashion, or she was in a great deal of trouble.

She began to fear it was the latter.

But they had mentioned a Queen was on the throne. A Queen who did not have dark hair. No. It couldn’t be!

Could it?

“Elizabeth the First? She is Queen?”

“Aye, Good Queen Bess, as we call ‘er. We is loyal subjects, Mistress. To the true Queen.”

“At’s right. And if she’s already Queen, what do that make you again? I rahver suspect you hain’t no Queen, Mistress.”

“Queen of Tarts, most like,” agreed Harry, licking his lips. “And I’ve a mind for a taste.”

Victoria backed up a step, struggling now to keep to her feet whilst her mind reeled to comprehend this turn of events. If Elizabeth was Queen, then she had…somehow traveled backwards in time. But such a notion was nonsense! People didn’t go traipsing about, three hundred years in the past. The whole idea was ridiculous.

Wasn’t it?

She closed her eyes for a moment, and tried to think calmly. What was the last thing she remembered before finding herself here? She had been sitting in the window, looking through Lord M’s telescope…

The shooting star.

Her eyes flew open.

But that could not be! Such things didn’t happen. Not in real life. Besides, she didn’t wish herself into the 16th century. And even if she’d tried to, such things were impossible.

Impossible!

“You are…a dream,” she said to the men, backing up even further. “Just a bad dream. You must be.”

“We is bad, Mistress. Very, very bad. But we hain’t no bad dream.”

“Aye, trust us, Love. We’re a very good dream for the likes of ye. We’ll be having you wri’ving and moaning before you know what ‘it you.”

They took a step closer and Victoria entirely shocked herself with what she did next.

She screamed.

“’As right, Love. Scream your pretty little ‘ead off. We don’t mind.”

“Aye, I’ll like it better if you scream.”

“Me first. I saw ‘er first.”

“We agreed, don’t we? Bofe togever.”

“I recommend strongly that you both step away from that Lady. Immediately,” came a new voice, out of the fog.

One that Victoria recognized.

“Says oo?”

“’Ere, what are you going to do about it if we don’t, eh?”

“Aye. We seen ‘er first. We’re ‘avin’ ‘er first!”

There was a hiss of metal, and Tom with a groan, fell to his knees, a look of surprise stamped on his hideous features, a pool of dark red liquid blooming from his chest.

Harry barely had time to register what had happened to his companion before he too, was lying on the ground. Unmoving.

Victoria clutched her arms around herself, one hand over her mouth as she backed away from the man emerging from the fog, sword still drawn and dripping with blood.

“Did they harm you, Ma’am?”


	3. Chapter 3--Rescue Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria's hero becomes known, and they find a very dodgy port in the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Rescue me/Oh take me in your arms/Rescue me/I want your tender charms/'Coz I'm lonely and I'm blue/I need you and your love too/Come on and rescue me..." ("Rescue Me", by Fontella Bass, 1965)

 

Chapter 3

 

Out of the swirling fog, he emerged. Tall and erect, he stood silhouetted against the moonlight, sword drawn in hand, still wet with the blood of her enemies. Her very own avenging angel.

“Lord M!”

Her breath left her in a rush as she threw herself forward, heedless of all propriety as she locked her arms tightly around his waist and buried her face in his chest, needing the reassurance of his body beneath her hands, her cheek, silently begging him to permit the familiarity, just this once. She had not realized how frightened and terribly alone she had been until he had appeared to vanquish her would-be attackers.

Her rock. Her stalwart protector.

Relief flooded her as she clung to him. How had she ever managed without him? She knew she should release him, but she could not bring herself to. The moment was so perfect. She never wanted to let him go.

He stood stiffly in her arms, barely breathing. Slowly, as if in shock, his free hand came to rest lightly on her shoulders, patting her and whispering soothing reassurances in her ear, as one might comfort a child, or a horse that had spooked. Her eyes closed with the sheer pleasure of it.

“I’ve never been so glad to see anyone!” she blubbered against his shirt. “Oh thank God you’re here!”

“Did the blackguards hurt you?” There was a dangerous edge to his voice that was in stark contrast to the gentleness of his hand in her hair. She lifted her eyes to look at him.

His face was set in stony lines of fury as his eyes glittered down at her. “Did they touch you, Ma’am?”

“No they did not. You—saved me, Lord M. If you had not come…” She drew a breath that was more of a wheeze, and another, and another, in rapid succession as she brought her hands back around his body to clutch at his shirt.

“Shhhh, hush now!” He dropped his sword with a clatter onto the street and pulled her hiccuping form closer to himself, cradling her in the shelter of his arms. “Think no more of it. It is over. You’re safe now, Ma’am. I am here, and I shall not let anyone harm you.” Gently he released her, and led her away from the sight of blood and her two attackers, out of the alley and back into the street, before he settled her once again against the warm reassurance of his chest.

Oh heavens above! He was actually holding her! Gone was the tension she’d felt in him earlier, and he was solid, welcoming, and so warm. Victoria felt her whole body exhale and melt bonelessly against him. His arms felt heavy around her shoulders. Strong. Capable. Gentle.

Perfect.

“I shall never be able to repay you. You have saved me from a fate worse than death, Lord M.”

“I require no repayment, Ma’am, you know that. I am only grateful I reached you in time.”

His voice vibrated in his chest against her cheek, and Victoria closed her eyes and shivered at the feel of it. How like her dear Lord M to appear out of nowhere and come to her rescue! To save her when all hope seemed lost. It was, and had always been, that way with him. He was always there when she needed him most. Even in this…time? This place. He had appeared as if by magic to save her.

She wanted to memorize every nuance of him, for she felt that life may never offer her another such moment with him again. Carefully, she itemized and detailed each sensation, from the whisper-softness of his shirt, to the scent of ink and brandy, and something spicy that always clung about him, to the distant feel of his heartbeat and the heat of his strong body. She would treasure the memory of him just this way, always.

Gradually she quieted, breathing in his solid presence. She was safe. More safe than she had ever been. He would figure out a way to put things right. He always knew exactly what to do. Everything was going to be all right.

“I don’t know what I should ever do without you,” she whispered against his shirt.

She felt him exhale one of his silent laughs, and he gave her a squeeze. “Oh,” he said in a slightly hoarse voice, “I’ve no doubt with your wit and courage, Ma’am, you would manage well enough without me just about anywhere. But I’m always happy to be of service.”

“I cannot. I should not. I don’t even want to try.” She tightened her grip on his shirt, fisting great handfuls of it, and then looked up to find his eyes on her, and her heart skipped a beat at the inscrutable expression in their green depths.

He blinked owlishly at her a few times, and the impression dissolved. Forcing a small smile to his lips, his throat moved as he swallowed hard. “Well. It is fortunate for us both then that you do not have to manage without me this time.”

“Are you…quite all right yourself, Lord M? You’re not injured, are you?” She bit her lip in consternation. How selfish of her not to ask him before! What if he had been hurt somehow? What on earth should she do? She should never forgive herself if he came to harm!

“No Ma’am. Why do you ask?” His gaze took in her hair, her shoulders, her mouth, before returning to her eyes.

“I don’t know. You don’t seem…quite yourself somehow. You are sure you are not injured?” It would be just like him to try and hide that from her. Panic seized her at the thought. Without a thought other than fear for him, she slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders and down his back then around to his chest again, frantically searching, satisfying herself that he was whole and unstabbed, until somewhere around the vicinity of his waist, he released his hold on her and captured her fluttering hands in his.

“I am uninjured, as you see,” he repeated a bit too firmly, raising her fingertips to his lips and kissing them, slowly and softly as he held her eyes with his. “Just perhaps a little…disoriented.” He flashed her his sad smile.

“That makes two of us.” She took a deep breath, panic subsiding, and stepped back from him. The perfect moment was over, she admitted reluctantly. Straightening her spine, she became Queen once more. “How did you get here?”

“I hardly know. One moment I was at Dover House, and the next, I woke up to find myself about three streets over, outside a tavern. I perceived that on a dark night in an unknown part of town, I might have need of a sword and so affected a swap with a gentleman who, in a rather compromised frame of mind, took a fancy to my dressing gown. I had just completed the transaction when I heard you scream, and I ran like the devil to get to you.”

“I’m very glad you did.” She took another deep breath and steadied herself. “You traded your dressing gown for a sword? Really, Lord M?” She smiled despite herself.

“Yes,” he smiled in return, an acknowledgment to the absurdity of it. “It was an old one, but I admit, it will be very much missed. Though not as much as you would be, Ma’am, had I not been armed with the wherewithal to dispatch your assailants.”

“Well. I’m very much indebted to the man in question, and to you, Lord M. I daresay I shall have to make you a present of a new one once we get home.”

“No indeed, Ma’am. It is of no consequence. Besides, there would be no end of scandal if the Queen bestowed the present of a new dressing gown upon her Prime Minister. Be assured, I shall replace it with no great difficulty or expense.”

“Well then. I daresay I shall find you another gift. You have certainly earned some sort of reward, Lord M, and you must allow me to bestow it on you at the first opportunity.”

“I thank you Ma’am. But your safety and well-being is the only reward I require. It is my duty to look after you, is it not?” He smiled again, this time, it reached his eyes.

“You perform it admirably, Lord M.”

His mouth twitched at the corners and his eyes softened as they rested on her, a sure sign she had pleased him. For some moments they stood there, her hands still in his, and Victoria basking in the tenderness of his gaze, until he cleared his throat and slowly released her hands, the spell between them broken. “How did you arrive here, Your Majesty?”

“I haven’t the faintest notion. I was at the palace. And now I am here.”

He nodded. “Well, we’d best set about finding where ‘here’ is, and get indoors before you freeze. Wait here a moment.” He returned to alley and was gone only a minute or two before he returned, sheathing his sword. He was gone next to no time at all, yet it was long enough for Victoria to feel his loss keenly. “Having had the necessity of it once, I’m reluctant to part with it again. As for your would-be assailants, I fear there is nothing that we can do for them, but pray for their souls.”

“It is no more than they deserve,” Victoria said severely, her teeth chattering. She had been too caught in the moment before to react, but now the horror of her previous situation was beginning to settle upon her. Shaking it off, she said, “Lord M. They said that…that Elizabeth the First is Queen.”

“Indeed,” he said, frowning. He looked around them, taking in the street, nodding to himself. “Yes…the architecture, at least here in this part of the city, does seem to bear out their story. As did the costume of the man who is currently enjoying my dressing gown. If that’s true then, Ma’am, it would appear that we have somehow traveled backwards in time. How extraordinary…” he said, half to himself, and releasing the breath of a laugh, shaking his head as if in wonder.

“How can you say that so calmly?” She huffed primly. “If it is true then we are in a most dire circumstance.”

“Because it can be the only explanation. I agree it is…dire. As dire as it is hard to conceive. But truly Ma’am, we do not have the luxury of debating the hows and whys of it just at the moment. We must get out of the night air, before you take ill. Then, before a roaring fire, perhaps we can ponder the situation more carefully, with all of its ramifications.”

“Of course. You are right Lord M.” She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Deprived of his body heat, she was once again freezing. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “I am sure it is colder now than it was before.”

“Likely so,” he said, taking in her appearance below her neckline for the first time. “You…were sleeping, I take it. When you…were brought here?”

“Stargazing, to be exact,” she said with a rueful smile. “But I cannot walk about the streets of London this way.”

“No indeed you cannot,” he mumbled, his eyes somewhat fixed just below her neck. Victoria realized with a start what he must be seeing and flushed scarlet. It was a very cold night, after all.

He swallowed hard again and raised his eyes to hers as if he had suddenly remembered himself. “Had I but known, I would have given the fellow my waistcoat instead of my dressing gown. I could have at least covered you then,” he ran a hand through his hair.

Victoria, in turn, was now examining his attire. “You too were in a state of…disarray, I see, Lord M.” Her eyes landed appreciatively on the open neck of his shirt, taking in the graceful, strong line of his collarbone, and reflected with pleasure how she had just been in his arms, her head positioned just south of that magnificent neck of his.

On only one other occasion had Victoria ever seen him so disheveled, where she’d visited him at Dover House unexpectedly. It had been an intimate moment she’d come to privately cherish, and she’d left that day with much to contemplate about the lines of his body, his well-formed legs, the strength of his forearms and the fascinating glimpse she’d had of powerful throat beneath his always impeccable winged collar and cravat. And here he was again in a similar state of disorderliness. Was he always this adorably slovenly when he was out of her presence? She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her lips at the notion.

“I apologize, Ma’am, for my appearance. I was working late this evening on some bills that are coming before Parliament soon and…was not expecting to wake up in Elizabeth’s London.”

“Please, Lord M. Do not apologize. You at least are decent and presentable. Whereas I--”

“--Yes,” his eyes flickered down again and back up to her face. He nodded, gazing down at his own hands. “Yes,” he managed again, not making eye contact with her any longer. “We must see about making you decent, Ma’am, and getting you out of this cold night air. Here. It is precious little Majesty, but perhaps it will help a little.” He shucked off his waistcoat and put it over her shoulders. Victoria pulled her arms through. It was still warm from the heat of his body and it smelled like him. She breathed in deeply and shivered, not entirely from the cold, and pulled it tight around her.

“Perhaps it is I who should be apologizing to you, Lord M, for my dishabille. I am very sorry. It must be very disconcerting.”

“Do not,” he managed in a strangled voice. “Do not distress yourself on my account, Ma’am.” He raised his eyes to hers and attempted a smile. “Both of us have found ourselves in extraordinary circumstances. We must…do the best we can to extricate ourselves from them as soon as possible.”

“I agree. Where does one buy clothing in Elizabethan England, do you think?”

“More to the point, with what coin shall we buy clothes, Ma’am? I fear we are rather destitute at the moment.”

“Might not they have some?”

“I took the liberty to search their pockets earlier. There was precious little, Ma’am, as you might expect, but it might suffice to help us secure lodging for the night. And perhaps some charitable fishwife will loan you something to wear in the morning.”

“A fishwife? Really, Lord M!”

“Your Majesty, you must remember, you are not Queen here. You must accept what you are given. We must get you decent and warm. That is of paramount importance.”

“True enough. Very well. I shall submit to charity, but I shall not put on any thing that crawls with lice or smells too strongly of it’s erstwhile owner.”

“Dully noted, Ma’am.” He said with a smile, and placed her hand in the crook of his arm as they began to walk. But they had not walked far when soon his arms were around her again, as she began to shiver in earnest.

They had walked so far as to the end of the next street, when they came upon one of the buildings that was well lit from inside.

“This way, Ma’am.” He guided her gently towards the door, but placed her off to the side. There was quite a lot of life coming from inside, from what she could hear. Lots of laughter.

“Are they having a party?”

“In a manner of speaking, Ma’am, yes I believe they are…of a sort.” He cleared his throat rather conspicuously, and knocked on the door. “Please allow me to do the talking. And whatever I may say, please go along with it.”

“Wha—?”

The door opened, and Victoria’s mouth clamped shut. A large, bewigged woman with a painted face perched above an enormous starched ruff appeared, wreathed in light. She looked Lord M up and down with an expression that made Victoria want to claw her eyes out. Music, warmth and a cloyingly close scent as of crushed flowers mixed with candle wax and sweat wafted out to meet her.

Lord M and the woman negotiated back and forth until finally, he held out to her the coins they’d taken from her erstwhile attackers and she accepted.

“My apologies, Ma’am,” Lord M whispered as they were ushered inside, “it’s the best I can do under the circumstances.”

She was not inclined to argue. At least not at first. It was warm inside, after all. But when her vision cleared and she’d stepped over the threshold, she could not believe the scene that met her eyes.

“Lord Melbourne,” she whispered, eyes wide open, “What kind of place is this?”

“It is a brothel.” He whispered back. “I’m sorry, Ma’am.”


	4. Chapter 4--Say You Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which poor, long-suffering Lord M gets no relief or mercy whatsoever, and Victoria gets her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Say you will, say you will give me one more chance  
> At least give me time to change your mind  
> That always seems to heal the wounds  
> If I can get you to dance..."  
> ("Say You Will", by Fleetwood Mac, Lyrics by Stevie Nicks, 2003).

 Chapter 4

 

Victoria was struggling to hide her dismay. Half naked men and women were cavorting in the most wicked way on nearly every surface. Some were totally naked and…oh! She averted her eyes and felt her cheeks flame. Was that how it was done?

“This way,” Lord M led her to the staircase and practically shoved her up the stairs into the room. He closed the door and turned the key in the lock with shaking hands. Once this was done, he sagged against it, his forehead touching the wood with an audible thump. “Your Majesty, can you ever forgive me for this?”

“I confess, I am…shocked. Lord Melbourne.”

“Indeed I am sure you are. I can only offer my deepest apologies for having offended you.”

She shook her head, somewhat dazed. “No. It is of no matter. In any event, we are no longer in the cold.”

“I told the Madame that you were my pregnant wife and we were in desperate need of a place to stay for the night. It was the only story I could think of to gain us both admittance. She let us have the one room, at a greatly reduced price from what she was initially asking, but it took all of our stolen coin. I am very much afraid we shall have to share it for the night.”

“Your pregnant wife?” She cocked an eyebrow, amused by the notion in more than one way.

“How else to explain why a man shows up on the doorstep of a brothel with a woman in tow, Ma’am? You must see your presence here is most irregular. Besides it…offers a reasonable excuse for me not to be expected to participate in the activities you saw downstairs. This way we have a place to stay, although in a less-than-ideal environment than we both may have wished for.”

“I see.” She said, still shivering. “No indeed, it was rightly done. I do not mind sharing a room with you, Lord M. These are dire circumstances, after all.”

“Your Majesty, I—would wish you to know I thought only of getting you warm. You had been out in the cold for so long and were shivering so violently, and in light of your experiences tonight and your…insufficient attire I felt it was most urgent to get you safely out of the night air. This place is unsuitable in every other respect, but…I was too concerned that your continued exposure whilst I tried to find a respectable inn would place your health in further jeopardy. I can only say how very sorry I am, Ma’am.”

“Please do not distress yourself further, Lord M. I am sure we will manage quite well,” she said graciously, very aware of his discomfort. He looked so mournful that she could not bear it. She smiled, trying to reassure him that she was not angry or offended, but this seemed to do little to comfort him from his self-recriminations.

Troubled on his behalf, she walked to the fire and stood as close as she could get to it, trying to think of something she could say to ease him. It was gloriously warm. Her eyes closed in sheer pleasure as feeling was restored in her feet and hands, determined not to think about Lord M visiting one of these places…in other circumstances. Did he do such things, she wondered? She did not like to think that he would. She banished the uncomfortable thought from her mind, along with the rush of unpleasant emotions the thought had brought in its wake. She would not entertain such wild notions. She preferred to think of him solely as she already did. As honorable and kind, and wise, and strong, and handsome, and every other good thing a man could possibly be. All qualities of which he possessed in abundance.

After a few moments, she turned around to warm her back, and locked eyes with her Prime Minister.

He stood stock still in the middle of the room, almost mid-motion, eyes wide. He held her eyes for barely a second, then cast them slightly downward. The color in his cheekbones was higher than normal.

“Lord M?! What is the matter? You look positively stricken. Are you quite all right?”

“I…” he swallowed hard, blinking several times, and clasping his hands in front of himself. He did not raise his eyes. It was as if he were staring at something just past her.

She turned around to see what had startled him, but there was nothing there.

“Dear Lord M! You must be exhausted. It is the shock of the situation, surely,” she crossed the room to him, truly alarmed for him, but when she reached him, he would still not meet her eyes, even when she was standing in front of him. “Here, come stand with me beside the fire. You will soon feel better.” Fighting a rising sense of almost panic, she reached out to take his hands, to tug him bodily over to the hearth, but his arms were locked in place and he would not relinquish them to her. It was like tugging on bands of steel. “Lord M?” Had he in fact somehow been injured, and just hiding it from her? Was he ill? She tried to make eye contact with him, but he still would not look at her. “Please…Lord Melbourne…what ever is the matter?”

“Perhaps,” he said in a soft, slightly husky tone, “it would be best if you…retired for the night…Ma’am. Tomorrow is likely to be a difficult day.”

“But you are all right? You…are not ill?”

“I—will be all right, Ma’am. Please do not concern yourself with me. I will wait here until you are…retired.”

She wrinkled her brow at him, opened her mouth to say something, thought the better of it, and padded thoughtfully past him towards the large bed in confused silence, shucking his waistcoat onto an obliging chair. After she had climbed under the coverlet, he seemed to slowly come back to life again. He crossed to the fire and leaned heavily against the mantle, keeping his back to her.

After admiring his strong shoulders through his nearly transparent white shirt, and his well formed, muscular legs without his usual coat tails blocking her view, she sighed. He looked so handsome, and so tired. She found herself gazing at his large, strong hand as it lay propped against the mantelpiece. He had such beautiful, masculine hands. Those hands had killed two men tonight. Two men in protection of her. Those same hands had comforted her, had written her letters, had held her own hands countless times. Capable of so much strength, and yet so tender where she was concerned. Like the man himself.

Her heart swelled in her chest, made her mouth dry. He had been through so much tonight because of her.

“Lord M,” she said softly, “you do look so exhausted. Please come lie down and get some sleep. The bed is really quite comfortable, and large enough for both of us.”

He started out of his daze, turned and looked at her, large green eyes round and luminous with shock.

“Wuh—Your Majesty! You cannot be serious!”

“Of course I am. Why ever would I not be?” She raised up on her elbows to see him better.

He sputtered. “Bec—wuh--It would be highly improper! I could not—I could never—presume—to…to…” He raised a hand and indicated the bed in that helpless gesture of his that she found most endearing.

“To what? Just because we share a bed for one night doesn’t mean we’re doing anything we oughtn’t! We’re only sleeping, after all. It’s not as if you’re claiming my virginity, Lord M, simply by lying down next to me. We are in rather desperate straights after all, and I will not have you freeze to death during the night by being needlessly chivalrous.”

At this, his face was suffused with crimson. He looked genuinely more shocked than she had ever seen him. After opening and closing his mouth soundlessly a few times, he finally managed to splutter, “But—I couldn’t!”

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” Victoria sat upright throwing the coverlet down, exasperated and perhaps a little hurt. Was she so objectionable? Was it really so wrong, what she was asking? She was not asking him to lay with her. Just to curl up and fall asleep. Maybe put his arm around her…why was it so hard to grasp that such a thing could happen entirely innocently? “Why not? I do not bite, after all! Am I so repugnant to you that the thought of sleeping in such close proximity to me is so unbearable?” She frowned at the thought of this. She could not bear it if that were to be so. So often had she dreamed of what it would feel like snuggling close to him at night, and this was truly a chance for her dream to come true. How horrible it would be to realize that she was physically repulsive to him?

“Of course you are not. That is not the point.” He dragged his hand through his hair, making it stand up in adorably unruly curls all around his head. “In fact it is just the point.”

“You do speak in riddles sometimes, Lord M. How can it be both?”

“Your Majesty, I am a man! Not a lapdog. You cannot summon me into your…bed…the way you summon Dash! It is not the same. Surely you must understand that what you are asking is quite impossible! Please…excuse my choler, I am not angry or offended. Your motives are entirely pure of heart, and I believe you to speak out of a perceived sympathy for my lack of accommodation. But please rest assured I shall sleep just fine over here. I shan’t leave you alone, but I can’t sleep next to you on the bed. It is quite out of the question.”

“I am quite well aware that you are a man, Lord Melbourne.” She hadn’t meant for it to sound…quite like it did, but once it was out there, there was no taking it back.

He froze and locked eyes with her.

As they gazed at each other across the room, all around them were the sounds of men and women lost in the illicit pleasure of the establishment. Sounds that Victoria had never heard before. To one wall there was a loud, rhythmic banging, as of a piece of furniture slapping repeatedly against a wall, along with a series of groans and grunts. To another, there was a deep moaning, and the high-pitched sound of a woman giggling. Somewhere, a man screamed “YES YES YES! YEEEES!!” Followed by a roar that seemed to tear right through her. The sounds made her feel…a strange kind of burning inside. There was something so wicked in it all that she found her cheeks reddening just in the contemplation of what activity could solicit such sounds from a person. And then the sight of the lobby of the brothel came into her mind. What she’d seen them doing…

She swallowed hard.

For several protracted moments, she was suspended in the golden green gaze of the man she treasured more than any other on earth. His eyes seemed darker somehow in the candlelight and the silhouette from the fire. For a moment he almost looked like a stranger, so incomprehensible was his expression. Would he make such sounds, she wondered? Had he? Who had been the women to provoke it and what had they done to him to generate it?

Hot on the heels of that question came a wave of jealousy so intense she almost doubled over and retched.

A small, tiny voice deep in the most secret place of her heart, whispered that she wanted to be that woman. She wanted to be all of them. And she hated them all—all the nameless lovers he’d ever had, as well as the ones she knew about. Hated them with everything she had for being able to touch and be touched so intimately by _her_ Lord Melbourne. For that was how she saw him. He was _hers_. And she was finding it increasingly intolerable to acknowledge the fact that it might not even now be true. What she wouldn’t give to be able to touch him that way, and have him enjoy it. What sort of woman did he find attractive? She wondered endlessly about such things. And most of all, did he find her attractive, even a little bit? In that moment, she wanted him to so desperately she could hardly breathe.

Handsome, sweet man. And so good. The best man she’d ever known.

Could she ever have even a small piece of his heart to call her own? Or did he only see her as a troublesome duty that must be attended to when he would much rather be somewhere else, with someone else?

It was enough to make her want to give way to tears.

His Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down and he cleared his throat. Victoria felt a wave of shame. How much of her thoughts had he read in her eyes?

“Then you understand why I cannot sleep in your bed with you,” he said quietly.

No. She couldn’t not understand. Or rather, she did not want to. Ever since they’d gotten to this little room, she’d been wanting nothing more but to seize the opportunity to lie next to him, to curl up against his chest, to feel his solid warmth against her all night. It didn’t matter where they were or indeed when. To pass such a night with him, she would go to the gates of hell itself.

It didn’t seem like so much to ask.

Disappointment and…pain rose up inside of her and threatened to swallow her. But this was her opportunity. Possibly the only one she would ever have. It was impossible to let it go.

“You know how completely I trust you,” she said finally. “Besides, I cannot abide the thought of you sleeping on the hard and filthy floor. It is unhealthy, and you deserve better. I will not hear of it.”

“But Your Majesty…”

“You are my rescuer, and my friend. As well as my Prime Minister and Personal Secretary. Do you not see how it pains me to think of you over there in such an uncomfortable situation? I will not be so uncharitable as you suggest simply for propriety’s sake. No. Do stop fretting and come to bed, Lord M. It shall be our secret. And as we are in the sixteenth century, no one will ever be the wiser.”

He had turned back to lean against the fireplace. He didn’t answer her for several moments.

“And what if your trust in me is misplaced, Your Majesty? What if we didn’t just sleep, have you thought of that?” He turned his dark gaze on her and her breath caught in her throat. There was something very different in the way he was looking at her. Something that made her heart beat faster. “What if something happened between us that you did not expect?”

“But it wouldn’t.”

“Can you be so sure?”

“But you would never…”

“How do you know that?”

She gasped a little. She did know that. Didn’t she? Did he really think of her…like that? Her pulse began to race.

“What are you saying, Lord M?”

“That sometimes things happen that we do not intend, Ma’am. You do not understand what you are offering me.”

“I am offering you a place to sleep.”

“You are offering me _temptation_ , Victoria.” He blinked several times.

“Temptation?” she echoed, ridiculously excited to hear him speak of her in these terms, and to use her name so familiarly. “Do I…” she swallowed hard. Dare she voice the question uppermost in her mind? What if he replied in the negative? Could she bear to hear it? Steeling herself, wetting her lips, she asked, “Do I…tempt you, Lord Melbourne?”

He took a deep breath and did not answer right away. Her heart was in her throat, waiting.

“Are you sure you want an answer to that, Your Majesty?”

“I am.” She said, hardly daring to breathe.

“Yes,” he whispered so quietly she almost did not hear. “You do.”

“Oh!” Her breath came back to her in a ragged gasp, warmth spread through her limbs. She barely managed to just stop the smile that threatened to spread across her features. She tempted him? How perfectly marvelous!

An incredulous laugh startled her from across the room.

“Try not to look so pleased, Ma’am, when you should be furious with me.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, and the heavy atmosphere of the last few moments began to dissipate.

“I can never be furious with you, Lord M, as you well know.”

“Not even when I richly deserve it, apparently.”

“Perhaps you do not richly deserve it as much as you think you do.”

“Goodnight, Your Majesty. I think it is more than past time for us both to retire.” He gave her a lopsided grin and lay down on the floor before the fire place, still chuckling a little to himself.

Victoria let out a huff of frustrated breath. How could he just say that to her and then leave her to sleep on her own? It was untenable. She watched him for a few moments. He lay down with his back towards her, using his hands to pillow his head against the hard, cold stone flags of the floor, readjusting himself more than once, clearly uncomfortable.

She had had quite enough of this foolishness.

Victoria allowed him to settle, then climbed out of bed with the coverlet and two pillows in her arms.

“Your Majesty! What in the name of heaven are you doing?” He sat bolt upright as she approached, eyes wide again with shock. If he wasn’t being so tiresome, he would have been completely endearing.

Perhaps he was anyway.

She placed a pillow on the floor where he had been propping his head up with his hands, and another one beside it. Then sat down beside him and threw the coverlet over both their feet.

“Your Majesty!” He sprang to his feet, more distressed than she’d ever seen him. “Please now, you-you must get back to bed this instant!” He said, trying to regain control over his demeanor as he looked to and fro around himself and swallowed hard a few times.

“I shall not. I shall not leave my Prime Minister and my dear, dear friend on the filthy, hard, cold floor while I enjoy a bed that is far too big for me anyway. No matter how stubborn you may choose to be, you shall find me more so. So if you refuse to share the bed with me, than I refuse to sleep on it either. I shall not subject you to less comfort than I enjoy myself. And so if you will not obey my commands and sleep on the bed, then I shall sleep wherever you do.” She smiled up at him blithely.

“Your Majesty,” he said in an almost plaintive voice as he ran his hand distractedly through his hair again, now standing on end in all directions, as startled looking as he himself was. “You must realize you are placing me in a most difficult position, Ma’am. I am very appreciative of the kindness from which the gesture springs, but I must insist that even if you do not agree with the reasons why, you at least respect my wishes on the matter and return to your bed! Now, you may…leave me a pillow and a blanket if you wish. Both would be much appreciated.”

“But I have already,” she said, smiling up at him and very pointedly not moving.

Lord M sighed with the long-suffering of a martyr. “And I suppose if I go to the bed, you will just join me there.”

“Most certainly.”

“And if I stay here, I’m still sleeping next to you, is that it?”

“Right in one.”

“So either way, I am sleeping next to you. Bloody hell!” He took a steadying breath, losing some of his legendary composure. It was most fascinating to watch. “Majesty I…” he sighed.

“Lord M, we are both very tired. I doubt even if I do tempt you as you say, that you will be able to stay awake long enough to act upon it anyway.”

He stuttered a moment, and swallowed hard, looking so shocked that she was almost obliged to give in. Only the thought of him lying on the stone floor horribly uncomfortable kept her going.

Well, that and maybe the tiny hope she still nursed that he might allow her to curl up next to him.

“Victoria,” he said wearily, his face in his hands, “If you don’t get off that floor and back into bed in the next thirty seconds, I shall pick you up and deposit you back there myself.”

“Only if you follow me there, Lord M. Lest I just follow you back here again. It could become a most tiresome back and forth until you concede that I am right.”

He took a deep breath of resignation.

“All right Ma’am. You win. May God in His heaven forgive me.”


	5. Chapter 5--Love Is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and Lord M share an intimate moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Love is...  
> You've got the softest lips  
> Love is...  
> The touch of your fingertips  
> Love is...  
> Knowing you won't let go…”  
> (”Love Is”, Stevie Nicks, 2001)

Chapter 5—Love Is…

 

“How very sensible of you, Lord M. I believe you will find the bed is far more comfortable than the floor.” She gathered up the bedding and trotted off ahead of him to spread it back on the bed, then climbed cheerfully on top of it and crawled to the far side before sliding under the coverlet.

There was some additional throat clearing behind her during these preparations.

“Do you need a drink, Lord M?”

“I think I might, yes, Your Majesty,” he said with a laugh as he finally came to sit ever so gingerly on the side of the bed. “But we can’t really afford that on our budget of naught at the moment.” He raised an eyebrow at her over his shoulder, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he swung around and put his feet up, his back resting against the headboard of the bed. “You are such a headstrong creature, do you know that? I can hardly believe I find myself here. How did this happen?” He thumped his head back against the headboard emphatically.

“You finally saw sense and were reasonable upon the matter,” she said with a shrug and a smile of her own. Victoria was having a hard time hiding her delight. She had gotten her way with him. He was here, upon her bed, so lovely and close…. It was just what she’d dreamed of.

They shared a laugh between them.

“If the Tory party could see me now,” he closed his eyes in pain. “My government would be over forever.”

“The Tory party is thankfully not here, Lord M. At least not our Tory party. They will never see you thus, and will never know.”

“That’s at least one mercy. You should…really have the side nearest the fire, Majesty,” he whispered. “It is warmer over here. Do you wish to trade?”

“No I am well here. Come, Lord M. Climb into bed and go to sleep.”

“No thank you. I shall stay uncovered Ma’am. It is the most decency I can procure for us at this juncture, and I stand firm upon the point.”

Victoria sighed and sat up, stripping the bed cover off her own legs, revealing some of them in the process.

“Your Majesty--please!” He said, his eyes fixed on her legs before turning away. “What are you doing?”

“If you do not sleep under the coverlet, than—”

“All right! All right! Bloody hell,” he muttered, removing his boots and getting under the coverlet. “Cover yourself up, Ma’am. You’ll freeze to death like that. And you’ll be the death of me,” he said more quietly.

“Why? Why should I be the death of you?”

“Because I’ve seen entirely more of your womanly figure tonight than I have a right to, Ma’am. Especially now that we are sharing a bed in a brothel. God in heaven!” He covered his face in horror.

He looked so agreeably rattled. It was such a departure from his normal air of disinterested worldly sophistication that she couldn’t help herself. She started giggling.

“And now you laugh at my discomfort,” he turned around to face her in mock indignation, humor clearly in his eyes now too.

“No indeed. Only in your manner of expressing it. It is the most extraordinary chain of events, is it not? Oh Lord M, I’m so glad you are here. I cannot imagine how frightened I should be without you. I am sorry if it pains you, but I simply cannot conscience you sleeping on that horrid stone floor.”

“I know, Ma’am. You are kind to a fault.” He sighed. “I do thank you for one thing, it is much warmer and softer than the floor. I confess I shall pass the night more comfortably here.”

They were facing each other now. Both under the coverlet, gazing at each other in almost the greatest intimacy that Victoria could imagine. She sighed with the most complete, absolute contentment she had ever before experienced.

Someone on the other side of the wall let out a shocking moan.

It reminded them both of where they were. His expression shuttered. She was suddenly aware of how close not just his face was to hers, but the rest of his truly excellent, manly physique as well. Under the same coverlet, with quite nothing in between them.

All she had to do was reach out with a leg, or an arm…

What if they should find themselves touching during the night? What if her nightdress rucked itself up and…?

His eyes were on her with a heavy lidded expression. His gaze did not waver, through all the sounds ricocheting around them.

“You are…sure you are not too cold?” He whispered.

“Now that you mention it, I am still a little chilly Lord M.”

“Perhaps you would like this side after all?”

“Perhaps…perhaps I should.”

They looked at each other awkwardly a moment. The bed was pushed up against the wall on the other side, leaving only the one side and the foot of the bed open to the room. Lord M gallantly crawled out of the bed and allowed Victoria to slide towards the fire under the covers. While he was up again, he went about the room, snuffing all the candles out and leaving their room lit only by the glow of the crackling fire. When she had repositioned herself, he crawled back into the bed, on top of the coverlet, over her, to the place she’d just vacated.

Was it her imagination, or was he settling himself nearer to her than he had been before?

She lay with her back to him, very aware of his body so close to hers, and feeling suddenly very, very shy.

“You are comfortable?” She called over her shoulder.

“I am,” he whispered, voice sounding husky.

“Not too cold?”

“No. Indeed.”

Her eyelids fluttered closed. His voice was so near her ear! She could almost feel the heat radiating off of him, warming her through the sheets far more than the distant fireplace. It did far from soothe her. In fact, she began to realize she might not be able to drift to sleep quite so peacefully as she had before assumed she would.

“You are still shivering,” he whispered again. “Perhaps if I…just…” He scooted even closer to her, almost close enough that he was touching her, but not quite. “There. Is that better?”

Victoria could not breathe. Not properly. Her heart was racing and there were butterflies in her belly. She had not expected this. In all of her girlish fantasies about curling up to sleep with her Prime Minister, she had imagined her feelings at this moment would be quite different. She had expected to feel warm and cozy. Content. Protected. Safe. She had not envisioned that his proximity would make her feel so…breathless. So…

Excited.

She found herself willing him to reach for her, to touch any part of her, to put his arm around her. Though she was no longer cold, she began to shake uncontrollably all over, so that even her teeth were chattering, and she began to question for the first time her decision to make him share the bed with her. He was so…intoxicating. Overpowering. She could think of nothing but him.

“Your Majesty,” he said in a husky whisper. “Are you still cold? I can see you shivering from here.”

“I shall be fine,” she returned, with only a little quiver in her voice. “Do not concern yourself with me. Sleep well, Lord M.”

“No. I rather suspect I shan’t be sleeping much at all tonight.”

Her eyes flew open. His voice had a quality she had never heard in it before. Her heart leapt into her throat.

A large, male hand landed on her shoulder, and then she found herself rolled onto her back staring up at the deepest green eyes she had ever seen, closer to her than they had ever been, sweeping over her hair, her face, her lips.

“Do you understand now why I protested this?” he whispered, mouth hovering just inches away from hers. “There are reasons why there are rules, Victoria. Do you feel it…humming between us? It is called lust. It is your body, hungering for mine, just as mine hungers for yours. It happens even to men and women who dislike each other. How much stronger is it then, for two people who care as deeply for each other as we do? Two people, who at all costs must deny their feelings for each other? How easy it would be for us to cross the line now…under such intimate circumstances, the temptation is too much to bear.”

Part of her insides melted, and pooled deep in her belly at his words, and at what she saw simmering in his gaze.

“Do you care deeply for me, Lord M?” She had to know. She had to hear him say it.

“I think you must know the answer to that already,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her neck, the dark pools of his eyes boring into hers. He reached out a hand and, so lightly she could barely feel his touch, stroked her hair.

Her eyes closed in pleasure as a gasp escaped her lips.

“We are playing with fire this night, you and I,” he continued, his voice moving like velvet over her skin. “If I stay here with you, we will both be burned alive.”

“I couldn’t bear it if you left me now.” It flew out of her mouth before she had time to even register the words.

“Could you bear it if something happened between us? Some acts have long consequences, Ma’am. It is not something we enter into lightly tonight.”

She suddenly felt very young and ignorant. He was a man who was well versed in these matters, she knew. The scenes in the lobby of the brothel came again to her mind. The sounds of illicit pleasure still echoed around them. And he was so wonderfully large and warm and male. And so very handsome.

She wanted to touch him. She wanted him to touch her. Here, cocooned with him in the dark and the warmth of the bed they shared, she wanted so many things she did not understand and couldn’t name. All she knew was how filled to the point of exploding her heart was where he was concerned.

She didn’t answer him in words. Instead, daring greatly, she reached up and caressed one eyebrow with her trembling fingers, then ran them lightly down the side of his face, over the strong line of his cheek to the beard-roughened skin of his jaw, and then forward toward his mouth.

His eyes closed and he shuddered under her touch.

He felt that way…about her touch? A wonderful feeling rippled through her body as her fingers found his mouth. His warm breath tickled her skin as she explored him. Such soft, supple lips, surrounded by scratchy stubble. What would it be like to taste his kisses on her own mouth? Such contrast between soft and rough moving against her skin…what would it feel like?

His eyes opened, huge and dark and bottomless. They stared straight into her.

“Victoria,” he whispered, “Do you have any idea how you make me feel when you touch me like this?”

She sucked in a ragged breath. Finally. Here it was. This was the side of him she’d longed to know. She had yearned for it almost from the very beginning of their acquaintance, and as she gazed at him, transfixed, petrified even, her heart kept repeating one refrain, over and over again.

Hers. Her dearest, her beautiful Lord Melbourne.

“Do you know what this is doing to me, just being here with you this way? What I want to do with you right now? My dearest Queen, if you knew even the smallest portion of my desires where you are concerned, you would lock me in the Tower all by yourself and throw away the key.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, watched her tongue dart out to wet her dry lips, then rise slowly to lock onto her eyes again.

“I would never lock you in the Tower, Lord M. Unless I locked myself in there along with you.”

“I deserve to be locked in the Tower. My thoughts are tantamount to treason.”

“Unless you are contemplating deposing me, or stabbing me in my sleep with your sword, your thoughts cannot be treason. After all, I am Queen. Treason is what I say it is.”

“My thoughts threaten you, Ma’am.”

“In what way?”

“Because I presume to dream about what I cannot have. It is the height of disrespect.”

“Tell me your dreams,” she whispered, longing to touch him, but holding back. She did not want to frighten him away. Not now.

“I cannot, Ma’am,” he said, tears brimming in his eyes. “You are still a virgin. My dreams, I fear, would corrupt you. Just like I would—” he broke off.

She did touch him then.

She didn’t know where it came from, or how she found the nerve. She only knew that if she didn’t do it, and do it now, she’d never have another chance. He would never again make himself so venerable to her, so accessible.

“Corrupt me,” she whispered, raised up her head ever so slightly and touched her mouth to his.

Lightening shot through Victoria, blazed brilliant behind her eyes, sizzled along her veins and arched, white hot, straight through her body. Joining the pool simmering deep inside of her, it melted into a rich, liquid heat, burning deep and bright and golden, unlike any feeling she’d ever felt before. She gasped with the force of it, trembling and shuddering all over from the impact.

He inhaled sharply the moment their lips met, and a sound like a whimper escaped him. It sent a fresh bolt of pleasure straight through her, striking her deep in that warm and melting place. Then his lips were soft and pliant, moving against hers gently, so gently, as if afraid she might break.

And oh, indeed she might! She might shatter right now into thousands of crystal shards, raining down, brilliant and glittering, never to be assembled again. So much sensation flooded her. The rasp of his beard. The softness of his kiss. The salty sweet taste of him. His hand cupping her head, fingers in her hair, applying only enough pressure to cradle her against him. The beauty of it brought tears to her eyes. She never wanted this to end.

Slowly and sweetly, his lips slid over hers, caressing, exploring, tasting her for the first time. So long, she’d ached to know what it would feel like to have his mouth touch hers this way. And it was so much more than she ever dreamed.

She rested her palms against his cheeks lightly, loving the contrast between the softer skin of his cheeks and the roughness of his jaw. He sighed, whispering her name against her lips, nuzzling her softly. Still so softly. Sending lightening crackling all along her body again and again.

Until she could not bear it any longer.

She broke away from his mouth, her lips drifting to his cheek, to his eyelids, to his expressive eyebrows, and even his forehead. She rained kisses all over his face, kissing not just him, but every sweet, encouraging word he’d ever spoken to her, every time he’d defended her and her right to rule, his arresting eyes that had haunted her ever dream, and the beauty his presence and companionship had brought into her life.

His heroic rescue of her tonight.

She wanted him to know, wanted him to feel in her touch how much he meant to her, how utterly she adored him. Her lips returned to his, hungry for more. So much more of him.

He groaned against her mouth, a sound deep in his throat, making her shiver and quake all the more. The pressure of his lips grew firmer against hers, tugging and sliding, pressing harder against hers, more vigorously and rapidly as he began to lose himself in the pleasure of their kiss.

Victoria also was lost. Her hands slid over his ears to wind themselves in his soft, curly hair. Ohhh, here was heaven. Here was everything. She sighed against him as she twirled his hair around her fingers. Contentment. Life itself.

Finally he broke the kiss, breathless, touching his forehead to hers while both of them gasped for air.

“Victoria.” The way he breathed her name ran ripples of pleasure over her body. “Oh God, Victoria…” he nuzzled her softly.

She was drowning in him. She thought her heart would swell and burst with the sheer joy of the moment, and what he made her feel that no one else ever had. So this was kissing?

“Kiss me again,” she whispered, moistening her lips, hungry for more. “Oh, kiss me, Lord M, kiss me without end. I want to taste you on my lips,” she whispered, tracing his with her fingertips again. “And then, when we are tired of kissing, I want to sleep with my head against your heart and feel your arms around me. Even if it is only for one glorious night. Please, my dearest Lord M. I am so cold…I feel I shall never be warm without you…”

With a growl, he scooped her up off the bed into his embrace and crushed his lips against hers.

Victoria cried out against his mouth and shuddered in his arms. His first kiss had been light, delicate, sweet, wondrous. This one was entirely different. It was wild; it was lost; it was—utter, unbridled surrender. He ground his mouth hard against hers, almost to the point of pain, devouring her like starving man presented with a banquet in his honor.

Was this the way he felt about her? Had this dear, dear man been holding back this storm all this time? Could she really inspire such intensity of feeling in the man she cared for more than life itself?

Her hands tightened into fists in his hair, instinctively pulling him even closer, closer! She could never get enough of him! Never!

Too soon, he released her, leaving them both panting for air.

“Do you see…what I mean…Ma’am?” he said, touching his forehead to hers. “Do you…understand now…why I tried to…avoid this?”

She nodded, tracing his mouth again with her fingers, her tingling, throbbing lips already starving for his again. “But I am not sorry.”

“No,” he said, eyes soft as he gazed at her. “Neither am I. God forgive me.”

She caressed his face, whispered over him. “Dearest Lord M…” She traced his ears with her fingertips. “I never imagined anything could feel so good as your kisses do.”

“Nor could I yours,” he said smiling at her, his eyes filled with tenderness, followed by a flash of humor. “You are sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Never,” she said. “Did I do it right?”

“Much more than right,” he whispered. “So much more…”

She leaned up again, but he backed away.

“If you touch me with your sweet lips again tonight, I cannot be responsible for what happens next. I am at my limit, Ma’am. Please do not press me any farther. Or I really shall corrupt you fully.”

“Don’t tempt me, Lord M. And if this was a sample of your treasonous thoughts, I beg you would have them all the time.”

He laughed a little, and Victoria was pleased to see the humor in his eyes spread. She had made him happy. The knowledge was exhilarating.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are incorrigible, Ma’am?” he said at last.

“I am not incorrigible. I am merely determined that you understand how thoroughly I enjoyed your kisses, Lord M. Could we do it again sometime?” She pressed her lips together, savoring the taste of him, as she ran her fingers down his neck and over his shoulders, enjoying the privilege of touching him for as long as he permitted it.

He flashed her a half smile. “I would like that very much, Ma’am. Now. It is most definitely time for us both to get some sleep.” He kissed her forehead and bid her turn onto her side, facing away from him again as he lay back down beside her, gathering her tightly against himself and wrapped his arm around her middle as he brought his legs up to curve behind hers, pulling her back into the crook of his body.

She sighed, shivered again with the pleasure and healing warmth of his touch, and snuggled back closer against him, provoking a strangled half cry.

“Oh! Did I hurt you?”

“N-not exactly, Ma’am, no. But please…try to be still.”

“You feel so good, Lord M,” she whispered. “It feels quite natural to have you hold me this way. I wish I could sleep with you thus every night.”

“If it were up to me, Ma’am,” he whispered in her ear, “I would never let you go.”


	6. Chapter 6--Hold on My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord M has a restless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “She awakens things  
> That he said he thought were dead…”  
> (”Love Is…”, Stevie Nicks, 2001)
> 
> “So hold on my heart  
> please tell her to be patient  
> cos there has never been a time  
> that I wanted something more…”  
> (”Hold on My Heart”, Genesis, 1992)

Chapter 6—Hold on My Heart

 

 

William Lamb, Viscount Lord Melbourne, 2nd of that title, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of anything but the sweet, adorable little bundle of woman currently in his arms. The woman he cared most for in all the world.

Parliament house. The Duke of Wellington. Sir John Conroy, horse dung, Leopold, King of Belgium--Strange how those last three images seemed to go together—the papers on his desk that needed his scrutiny. The bills he still had to draft on behalf of his government. Accounts to be reconciled, correspondences to be replied to and issued, and a hundred and one other tedious, mundane and highly unexciting tasks of his existence.

None of them worked.

He was disgracefully aroused still, and if Victoria did not stop squirming and rubbing her plump, beautiful posterior so enticingly against his lap, it would soon become unbearable. He’d been aroused since entering the brothel to begin with, as it had been some time since his last female encounter. Though he’d shepherded his poor, wide-eyed, half-frozen Queen upstairs and away from the sea of naked, and semi-naked, mostly female flesh in all manner of provocative poses and encounters as quickly as he could manage, it had not prevented either of them getting an eyeful on the way by.

As if that had not been bad enough, he turned around from locking their door to be confronted with the vision of Victoria standing before the fireplace, her nightgown glowing with the light of the fire behind her, rendering it almost as transparent as glass. He’d seen—quite by accident—every lush curve and swell of the part of her that his lap was currently cradling. Enough to torment him day and night forever henceforth, as he must now struggle not to picture just how delicious her little rump was beneath her billowing skirts.

And then she’d turned around…

Bloody hell, he’d seen damn near everything. And what a glorious sight she had been! She was the most perfect, beautiful, woman he’d ever set eyes on. Heat had shot straight to his groin and increased the problem he was already straining under to a painful degree almost instantly. He’d been obliged to cover the swelling evidence of his unfortunate thoughts as best he could by crossing his arms in front of himself, so awash in a sea of lust that he had been rendered speechless and unable to meet her eyes.

Of course, his Queen, with that maddening, heady mixture of girlish innocence and awakening womanhood that she currently was, had innocently attempted to grab his hands and tug him closer to the hearth, in an effort to relieve him of an affliction she had no comprehension of. Her touch on any part of his body then was like fire. But to have her delicate little hands, so close to that part of him that was so very eager to feel her touch was a torturous and embarrassing ordeal. Somehow though, he’d managed to survive it without her realizing his true predicament, and later to surreptitiously adjust what he needed to in order to make his plight less obvious.

But then, as seemed to be so typical of his farcical existence, and no doubt to the great amusement of whatever entity currently controlled the circumstances of his life, he’d ended up climbing into bed with her anyway, unable to resist her promptings and cajoling. So here he was, playing the role of Tantalus even more than usual— with everything that he most desired and needed in the world within arm’s reach, and being unable to touch any of it. If their situation had not been so dire, he would have had no recourse but to stop and laugh heartily at himself. Truly there was never so piteous a spectacle in all of mankind’s vast history than himself at this moment.

How on earth did he get himself into such folly? And how, by all that was holy, would he be able to now survive it—starved as he was for female company, and hers in particular?

And yet, he must do. For both of their sakes. He knew that Victoria wanted him almost as badly as he wanted her, though she did not recognize it for what it was. Her invitation had been made in an innocent, girlish bid, for all intents and purposes, to use him as a pillow. It was not a displeasing notion to himself by any means, had she not left out of her considerations a very serious side effect that such an arrangement would inevitably produce. She had not anticipated the fever that overtook them both the moment he had climbed into her bed with her--had not known how aroused he already was, how his desire for her and only her had driven him into abstinence for much too long a period already, and what the effect that abstinence had been on his already overly-charged sexual appetites.

Then there was Victoria’s own appetite. That she had a very sensual, passionate nature he had always suspected. No. He’d more than suspected. He’d known. His own knowledge of women was not narrow or confined in any degree. And in that way that existed between two people who shared an almost spiritual connection, he’d known without knowing, that she was his equal in every way. She had only to be awakened fully for such a nature to blossom into its fullest flower. And the prospect, the remotest possibility, that he might be the man to awaken it had cost him many hours of sleep and tranquility since they had first met.

But just how right he had been had been borne out to him tonight in no uncertain terms. Her kisses were so hot-blooded, so deeply erotic that they had seared him--heart, mind, body and soul. She had branded him as hers forever, and what tiny parts of him that had remained his own before her lips touched his were now, officially, surrendered. And surrendered with joy. Never mind that it doomed him to a life of deep, unconsummated frustration. Such a price to pay for the glory of what they’d already shared this night seemed trivial. For never before had any woman so touched his deepest, innermost heart. More than touched. Caressed. Smothered in kisses and suffused with the sweetest love it was possible to imagine. His jaded, calcified heart had melted into water in her hands. He was utterly, completely hers. For better or for worse. And he already knew which one it was to be.

And so he lay, cradling her against his body, memorizing the beauty of her delicate face as she slept, her long, dark tresses fanning out over his arms and tickling his chin, the whistle of her breath and the rise and fall of her perfect breasts as she slept. His girl-Queen. So fragile, and yet so strong.

Spooning with her this way was a far from perfect solution to his dilemma, he knew, but it was the best way he could think of to give her what she needed so badly from him tonight, and give himself a prayer of not taking things too far. For the other half of his capitulation had been in recognition of the utter necessity to her of his physical reassurance. He had seen it in her eyes—the aching loneliness, the fear of their situation, the need to feel his arms around her, the comfort and security his body could give her. She had been through so much this night. Both of them had. How could he refuse her something so simple, when the act was capable of giving her so much in return? How indeed could he have refused her, even if he found such a situation abhorrent, much less when he himself desired it as well?

So then predictably, matters had progressed. He himself, bloody fool that he was, had initiated it. Had been unable to keep himself distant from her. Unable to keep from confronting her with the reality of what they were both feeling. Small wonder that she had kissed him. And kissed him some more. Leaving him now in no doubt that her feelings for him was nothing short of love. That she could return his feelings left him in awe. But knowing as he did the only outcome for them both…. It was enough to break his heart now on her behalf, as well as his own.

He attempted to blink back his tears, but they overcame him. Safely in the dark, with Victoria sleeping in his arms, he let them run unchecked down his face.

It was one thing to lose his own heart—to knowingly plunge headlong into a state of affairs that could only have disastrous effects upon himself. But to know that she also was headed—unknowingly—into that same disaster was more than enough to cause him to weep. He didn’t mind about himself, not really. But her? He minded. Very much indeed.

He would have her happy.  No matter the cost to himself.  He would willingly sacrifice himself upon any alter to preserve the purity of her innocent heart, the wide open possibilities of her future, with no grief and no loss and no crushing disappointments to mar her in any way.

After all, his country needed her. He felt it deep in his bones that this young Queen would be the greatest thing to happen to Britain in a very long time. And if there was anything he loved more than her, or at least as much, it was his country.

The knowledge that there was precious little he could do to preserve her from the inevitable filled him with sorrow. In truth, to lie beside her this one night, holding her soft curves all nestled against his body, was the most he could ever allow himself to touch or possess her. It must needs be enough. For them both. And come the morning he would have to explain that in no uncertain terms. There was far too much at stake for her. It was not a prospect he relished.

He could never have her, now or ever. And the sooner they both accustomed themselves to that truth, the better off matters would be, for her especially.

He tried to turn his thoughts to the man who would eventually wed—and bed—her. He tried to pray that whoever he was, he would appreciate her as much as he himself did—would love the woman for her own sweet self, and not merely for the crown she wore. Tried to tell himself that surely fate would not be so cruel as to forbid him to have her, only to offer her up to another man who would see her only as a means to his own power?

Fate had been far crueler to him already.

He prayed it would not be so for her. He could wait a thousand years, and never find another woman like her. Surely she deserved a man who worshiped the ground she walked on. A man who would make love to her with a passion to match her own, who would stop at nothing to please and pleasure her, to fulfill her every fantasy and desire. A man who loved her more than life itself, crown or no crown.

Inevitably, his thoughts returned to how desperately he longed to be that man himself.

If she were his woman in truth, he would devote the rest of his life’s energy to loving her. In every conceivable place. In every conceivable posture. In every kind of mood. Every hour of the day and night, if he had his way. Anyway and anytime she wanted it. Maybe then, after twenty years or so of continuous, uninterrupted, wild and imaginative sex, the edge of what they felt for each other might be sated, just a little.

His hand twitched on her waist, dropping to the flat planes of her belly as he allowed himself a quiet, private fantasy. Harmless, surely, all things considered? Well. It couldn’t be any more harmful than all the others he’d had.

What would it be like to plant a babe inside of her? To watch her belly swell, to place his hands against the taut roundness of her womb, to feel the little life they had created together inside squirm and kick? The image blindsided him. Hit him with an impact and force he did not expect.

To be a father again…to hold a tiny life in his own two hands…perhaps a son, this one with a perfect, undamaged intelligence and a strong constitution. To feel that fuzzy little head cradled in the palm of his hand, to watch his little fist reach up and clasp his little finger, holding on for dear life….

Out of the ashes of his old life, marred by so much death and tragedy…what would it be like to have a child again, this one with the woman that meant more to him than all the others combined? Just the thought left him breathless; it was more joy than he could hope to capture in all his life put together. He caressed her belly thoughtfully, softly so as not to awaken her. Part of him, mingled with part of her. To have a future again, to know that he would not leave this world with nothing of his own to remain behind as testament to the fact that he had ever existed at all.

To have a living symbol of his love for this woman, and hers for him, opened up a world of endless possibilities that he had thought were lost to him long ago.

To have a second chance at life and happiness…

Lying there in the privacy of the dark, Lord Melbourne dreamed his forbidden future as he would wish it to be with the woman in his arms. Of the laughter they would share. Of the pleasant, companionable conversations they would have before the fireside. Of endless, beautiful, passion-drenched love making with a woman that startled him with the depth of her feelings and passionate response. Of bright eyed children running to him, settling themselves on his knee as he sat in his favorite chair, and calling him Pa-pa. A boy who was strong and whole, with intelligence shining out of his eyes, eyes so like his own. And a girl, with a head full of dark curls and eyes the color of the sea, so like her mother in appearance and in spirit…Of his wife’s glowing, radiant smile bestowed on him over their little heads…

Such perfect happiness.

He squeezed his eyes tight again, this time in pain as the vision dissolved. Victoria, and children. It was everything he could ever want in the world. And it was everything he couldn’t have.

He knew it full well. And yet, he could not stop himself yearning for it.

Without realizing it, he had tightened his grip around her middle, pulling her closer. He relaxed his hand, ashamed. He would wake her with his folly if he was not careful.

He had to let her go. Not just physically, but in the depth of his heart, he had to release her if he had any hope of surviving this. It was a feat that would require an almost supernatural resilience that he was entirely unsure he possessed. Nevertheless…

If only he were a younger man. His heart wept to think it—so out of his reach it was. If only he could start again with Victoria by his side. To be as young as she was…By God if he was, he would fight all the world for the right to have her. He would never let her go.

But it was too late for that ‘if only.’

“Lord M?”

Her sleepy voice startled him from his thoughts.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“You’re awake.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“You are not tired?”

“Not…as yet, Ma’am.”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“No Ma’am.”

She squirmed against him, and he bit down hard on his tongue to keep from crying out. Ballocking hell, he was still so very aroused and she felt soo very good...

“What…am I…that is…” she wriggled her hips against his lap again experimentally. “Whatever…is…in your lap, Lord M?”

 _Bloody hell!_ He felt his face flaming. His thoughts of her had done nothing to alleviate his problem, and now his worst fear had come true.

He swallowed hard, and tried to focus through the swimming vision her explorations had produced. He would have to answer her. There was no good trying to keep anything from Victoria. She would find out one way or another. And if she began too thorough of a quest to find out, he would not be able to withstand it. He took a deep breath and faced his utter humiliation as manfully as he could.

“That is…me, Ma’am,” he said when his vision had cleared and he could breathe again, his voice sounding strangled to his own ears.

“You? What do y--?” she began, and then, “Oh!”

 _‘Oh’, indeed,_ he thought with mortification.

“That is why you must be still,” he whispered. “It is the only way for it to…subside.” As if there were any hope of that tonight, he thought dryly.

“ _All_ of that is…you?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, stifling a laugh. That was quite possibly the best unintentional compliment she’d ever paid to his baser nature. Which... wasn’t helping the situation either.

She squirmed again, exploring.

A groan escaped his lips. God in heaven!

“Lord M?”

“Mmmhmm?” Her voice came to him as if from far away.

“Are you…quite all right back there?”

“No,” he breathed against her neck. Her beautiful, swan-like neck. The one he’d so dreamed of lavishing with kisses and nibbles all up and down it’s length. The one that was in such easy reach of his mouth right now that it practically watered with the thought of just…the tiniest…little…peck…against her silky skin...

Famous last words. It would be like the raining of tiny pebbles that triggered the avalanche for them both, and he knew it. He didn’t dare.

His lower regions throbbed with need.

“Victoria, please,” he wheezed, “You must stay…still.”

Unconsciously, his hand slid from her middle outward to grasp her hip. He gritted his teeth. The fabric of her night gown was thin and fine. He had to but slide his hand down her leg, find the hem and slide it upwards to bare her body before him.  It would be so simple.  So little divided them.  So little between him and her bare skin.  Before his mind's eye, he saw himself burying his face in her throat, raking up her night dress, sliding his hand between her thighs.  What would she sound like when she came?  Would she be silent or would she scream the house down?  Oh, he wanted to know.  He wanted to be deep inside of her when it happened.  To feel her seize him and squeeze...to take him with her over the edge and into perfect release...

Victoria sighed, a smile touching her lips, her back arching ever so slightly, pushing her rear even harder against him. “Your hands are so big and warm, Lord M,” she whispered drowsily. “I love the way you touch me.”

_Dear God!_

“Go to sleep…Ma’am.” _Please,_ he added silently. _Before I cannot stop myself touching you far more_. “And if you care for me even to a small degree, be as still as you can possibly manage.”

“Does it hurt you if I move?”

“No,” he breathed. “It feels…very pleasurable.”

“Really?!” Her eyes opened, and she smiled. “You mean I…how perfectly marvelous!”

“Yes, Majesty, you do that to me. Far more than you realize,” he kissed the top of her head. “Now. Go to sleep.”


	7. Chapter 7--The End of the Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, even though it is morning, the author cannot pry her two recalcitrant characters out of bed. And in which she has been persuaded to change the rating of her work, just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Who knows how long this will last  
> Now we've come so far, so fast….
> 
> I need to remember this  
> So baby give me just one kiss….
> 
> Just lay your head back on the ground  
> And let your hair fall all around me  
> Offer up your best defense  
> But this is the end  
> This is the end of the innocence.”  
> (Don Henley, 1989).

Chapter 7—The End of the Innocence

 

Victoria had gotten what she wished for. When she awoke the next morning, she did indeed find herself still in Lord M’s arms. He had rolled onto his back and she was nestled beside him, with her cheek pressed against his heart and his arms still warmly around her. It was her dream, all the way come true. She sighed. It didn’t matter where they were or even when. All that mattered was that he was here. His big, warm hands were pressed against her body. One of them lay heavy across her waist, the other around her shoulders, pulling her against him. She felt so safe and so cared for. She couldn’t imagine any more perfect happiness than she felt now.

Taking advantage slightly of his sleeping form, she slid her hand lightly across his chest. He was so big and strong. And so beautiful, even as he slept. She longed to slide her hand under his shirt, to curl her fingers in the springy dark hairs of his chest. But she didn’t want to risk waking him and ruining this perfect moment. So she curled up against him again and wrapped a leg carefully around one of his. He was so cuddly, like a large warm bear. She closed her eyes, imagining for a moment what it would be like to wake up to him every morning. And to be able to touch him where and how she pleased. To have him enjoy her touch.

Her eyes drifted south.

She smiled to herself. Well. She may not be permitted to touch him wherever she wished to, but at least she knew now that he did enjoy her touch. Quite a lot, if last night was to be believed. She still could not get over the feeling of him last night. It had been most…enlightening. She’d been possessed of the strongest, most wicked desire to turn in his arms and seize hold of him with her hands. Her palms had itched with the thought of it. But he’d been in such a state of dismay she did not dare to.

She had excited her Lord M. It made her want to positively giggle.

And worst of all, perhaps, it made her want very much to do it again.

What was it about Lord M that made her thoughts so wild? Made her want to toss her heavy crown out of the nearest window and fling herself into his arms, if that was what it took?

Not that he would accept her if she did. She would only be humiliated at his kindly rejection.  Perhaps it was not her that had excited him. Perhaps it was merely their situation. Perhaps if she’d been any woman, he’d have felt the same.

The thought robbed her of breath. God, what she wouldn’t give to be his type of woman! To be someone he looked upon and…hungered for. A woman he would not hold himself back for, but would be compelled to…

To…

She couldn’t frame the words. To do what those men downstairs last night were doing to those women. It wasn’t making love…not exactly. It had shocked her, but at the same time, it had made her most curious. She wet her lips. Just to have him want to do those things to her would be something. She could hardly imagine that he could ever desire to make love to her in the truest sense of the word.

He would never feel that for her. To him, she was nothing more than the Queen, and his friend. At least she hoped they were friends. But sometimes she would notice the easy way he conversed with the Lady Emma Portman, and feel such envy. He always seemed so comfortable and easy with Emma, and Victoria imagined he shared more of his confidences with Emma than he ever did with her.

She lay her head back against him, sadness now choking the joy of the moment from her. Why couldn’t she at least look more womanly? More Queenly? Then perhaps he would see her as a woman in truth. Perhaps if she were taller. And more filled out, with larger breasts and hips, that would entice him. Perhaps if she were older and more grown up.

She gazed on him, and wanted more than anything for him to think her beautiful. For him to want all of her. Just her. The way that she wanted all of him.

He stirred.

Victoria was at once disappointed and fascinated. Disappointed that she would have to relinquish him very soon. But fascinated because she would get to watch him wake up. She would be the first thing he laid eyes on this morning. Her darling Lord M. How would he react to see her now in the full light of day? What was he like first thing in the morning?

He came to full cognizance slowly, the hand around her waist sliding south as he did so, gliding heavily over her bottom. Victoria froze, afraid even to breathe lest she break the spell.

He made a soft, appreciative noise, and without opening his eyes, began rucking up the fabric of her nightdress, squeezing and kneading her thighs and then her bottom a little as he sighed audibly.

Victoria lay as still as she could manage and tried to suppress a smile. The last thing she wanted was to startle him awake. His hand was making a very detailed and thorough job of squeezing and massaging her, and she lay pressed against him, transfixed. His hands felt so good on her body. She lay her head back against his chest and sighed a little more loudly than she intended to.

She felt him jerk, and release his hold on her instantaneously.

“Y-your Majesty?!” His eyes opened wide and he propped himself up on his elbows, dislodging her completely. He blinked several times, looking dazed, taking in his surroundings, and her. “My apologies I…”

“Good morning, Lord M,” she said brightly, unable to hide her amusement. “Please do not apologize, I am not in the least offended. Did you sleep well?”

“Was I here all night?”

“Yes you were.”

“It wasn’t a dream then.”

“Well. In a manner of speaking, perhaps it was.”

He coughed uncomfortably and sat up. He was so tousled and rumpled that he was nothing less than adorable. His hair was delightfully disordered, curls rioting all over his head. His jaw was now completely covered in stubble, and she longed to run her hands over his face to feel it rasp against her skin. His shirt was half open, affording her a deliciously sinful view of his chest. And the morning light on his eyes turned them a radiantly glowing spring green. He sat blinking several times, as if to clear his vision.

“Aren’t you even going to kiss me good morning?”

“You are sure nothing happened last night?” He said, narrowing his eyes at her, looking her over sharply.

“Well…I spent a glorious night wrapped in your arms, and woke to a most…invigorating…massage. But apart from that, no, nothing at all.”

He covered his face with his hands. “I hoped that I’d dreamed at least that part…”

“I am glad you did not, as I quite enjoyed it. I’m rather disappointed that you stopped.”

“I am the most reprehensible of rakes!” He said with a groan, through his fingers.

“No indeed,” she said, laughing aloud at his chagrin. “Stop that this instant. Do you not know how I shall treasure the memory of these intimacies with you, Lord M? Pray do not chastise yourself for a single one of them.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Victoria, you do realize that we have behaved most indecently towards one another. You must promise me that you never divulge to a living soul what has happened last night…or this morning, apparently. Or I’m afraid, virginity or no virginity, your reputation will be ruined forever. And for God’s sake, do not journal about it! I am well aware you record far too much as it is.”

“But I enjoy my diary. I get to live it all over again when I write about it. You deprive me of a great deal of pleasure if I cannot write about this Most Interesting Night. And anyway, was it really so shameful if my virtue is still in tact?”

“Yes, Ma’am, it was. I should never have indulged your fancy so. Let alone kissed you and…held and touched you so intimately,” his voice grew husky as he gazed at her, and she saw he was reliving some of what they had shared himself. “No matter how pleasurable to us both.”

She felt herself blushing. “I commanded it. Well some of it.”

“Yes I remember that quite clearly. You are most determined sometimes, Ma’am.”

“And you are sweet to indulge me.”

“Sweet?” He smiled a little lopsidedly at that and laughed. “No. Not ‘sweet’, Ma’am. I am weak and susceptible to your charms. Do you have any notion what almost happened last night?”

“Well. I think I have a better idea having spent a night in this place. There might have involved a lot of noise and…banging.” She swallowed hard.

“Undoubtedly so,” he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“But it did not happen.” _More’s the pity_ , she thought.

“It very nearly did. God, what you put me through!”

“Was it really such a hardship for you? I seem to remember that you quite enjoyed it.”

“That is entirely the point. I did enjoy it. Far too much. And yes, it was a hardship. You have no idea how hard it was.”

“Well,” she said softly, not quite hiding her smile, “perhaps I have some idea.”

His lip twitched and he huffed out a laugh.

“Yes,” he said looking sheepish, “I suppose you do at that.”

“I had…no…idea that I could…well…inspire such a…reaction from you.”

“You do. However, I am usually better at disguising it. Although, normally you do not sleep cuddled up in my lap. You really had no mercy on my affliction, Ma’am.”

“I was too excited by it to be merciful.” She said before she could stop herself.

He regarded her a moment, eyes smoky and half-lidded, then abruptly he rolled toward her on the bed. “Do you want to know the worst part of it, Ma’am? In my heart of hearts, I really am not sorry at all. In fact, it has only whetted my already insatiable appetite for you.” He leaned in and kissed her full on the mouth.

Victoria gasped. He kissed her slowly, the pressure of his lips hard upon hers, the stubble of his beard rough and scratchy against her skin. He pulled at her lips with his, sucking and tugging languidly, as if indulging in a sumptuous banquet he was in no hurry to consume.

Something like a moan escaped her, and he purred against her lips like a contented tom cat.

“Do you see now the depths of my sin where you are concerned? Why I fought so hard to protect you against myself?” he kissed her again. “God in heaven, Victoria, I cannot do it any longer. I cannot keep away from you. I know I should and yet...I cannot stop myself. You…” he kissed her again between each word, “shatter…all…my…defenses.” He broke away and found her eyes with his. “You shatter _me_.”

Her heart gave a little flutter at his words. Her face felt raw where his beard had scratched her and her lips were throbbing from his attentions. She reached out and touched his jaw, running her fingers over the thick, rough stubble of his beard. So unutterably beautiful. So majestic a man. So kind. So giving. So wise. Her Lord Melbourne. Hers. She was the one who was shattered. Irreparably.

His eyes were dark as midnight now, heavy lidded, the expression in them made her breath catch in her throat.

“How do you feel this morning, My Queen? Do you feel as naughty as you did last night?” He whispered. “Do you regret so much that I did not ravish you then? You pushed me to the brink, do you know that?” He nuzzled her. “I still have not recovered. Oh, Your Majesty…I burn for you, as I have never burned for any other woman in all my life.”

His mouth landed on hers and then traveled down her throat, and the fire he’d stoked in her last night came roaring back to life.

“Is it…” she fought for composure, “I mean…are you sure it is me…that you burn for, Lord M? Or would…” she swallowed hard. She didn’t want to say it but she had to know. She had to put the nagging doubt to rest. “Would any woman do?”

He stopped his attentions on her neck and met her eyes with surprise. “Do you really not know the answer to that…Ma’am?” He stroked her face lightly with his thumb as he cupped her head in his hand. “Victoria,” he said, gazing straight into her eyes, “I burn for you alone. No other woman will ever do for me again.”

She swallowed something like a whimper as her insides liquefied. His eyes, so close to hers, were so naked, so defenseless, and so full of love she could hardly breathe. He looked so adorably uncertain, as if worried about the effects of his words.

As if he had any reason to worry.

Her mouth was dry as she tried to swallow. Her Lord M wanted her. And her alone. The tears flew unbidden to her eyes.

He kissed every one of them away. Then his lips found hers again. Warm. Solid. Reassuringly heavy.

Beautiful.

Her hands flew into his hair as she cradled his head between her palms.

And then his mouth opened beneath hers.

She cried out loud against him with surprise, but he devoured her cry, purring against her mouth, tugging, coaxing, tasting her lips, slipping his tongue inside her own mouth and out again. She shuddered, crying out against him again as his tongue slid back between her teeth, cozied up to hers, and then disappeared again. He repeated this dance a few times until she felt almost wild, her whole body on fire. Needing. Demanding. More.

He released her, touching his forehead to hers.

“And now, my Queen,” he whispered hoarsely, “You will surely send me to the Tower. But I assure you I will go to my death a happy man.”

“Never,” she managed finally, “I should never allow such a thing.” She trailed her fingers down his face in something like awe. “As you know very well.”

“You should,” he whispered. “I have behaved in a most criminal manner. Taken the grossest liberties. And I want to take even more. So many more…”

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. She could only sit and burn helplessly before him. _Yes,_ she thought at him. _Take them all._

“Oh…how I have longed to make you mine in truth. In every way…mine.”

“I am yours already,” she whispered, “My dearest Lord M—”

“--William,” he whispered. “I would have you call me William, when we are alone together, like this…”

She gave him a unsteady smile. “I have often wished to do so. But I thought you would not permit it.”

“My Dearest Girl,” he touched his head to hers again. “Do you not know by now that for you, there is nothing I would not permit?”

“Then we shall be simply Victoria and William, from this day forward. Whenever we are alone. Not Queen and Prime Minister. Here, together, you and I…there is no rank and title. Nothing to divide us.”

He kissed her deeply once more, leaving Victoria feeling helpless and wobbly.

“I want so much…” she whispered against him, “So much I cannot even name. Oh William…I want to…to…feelyouagain,” she finished in a rush, then bit her lip. She risked a look up at him; her heart stopping at the way he was looking at her.

“Give me your hand,” he said simply.

She did so without question. He took her hand in his, stroking her palm with his thumb as he regarded it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said, her blood racing. She sounded breathless to her own ears.

He held her eyes as he brought her hand to his lips again, kissing and kissing his way all over her palm, her fingers, until she’d felt his lips graze every bit of it. Victoria gasped at the beautiful feeling of his soft mouth, contrasted with the rasp of his stubble playing across her hand. Then, still holding her eyes, he gently lowered her hand and placed it on his chest, just over his heart, closing his own hand over hers and holding it in place.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, as he slid it slowly and heavily down beneath the coverlet. Down to his belly.

He held her captive in his eyes. As captive as her hand. She couldn’t stop for all the world. She didn’t want to.

“Tell me, Victoria. Tell me I’m out of line.  Remind me I am your Prime Minister. That I am at least a hundred years older than you.  Remind me I have a duty to uphold to my country. To my Queen. Bid me stop immediately.”

He slid her hand slowly south.

Her breath was coming in small gasps now. Her heart was beating so loudly she could barely hear him. His body was sliding beneath her hand. The soft fuzz of his chest hair tickling her palms, contrasting with smoothness of his shirt where it was still covering him.

“Quickly, before its too late. Pull away from me.”

When she said nothing, he plunged her hand down, beneath the waist of his trousers. She gasped, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Now. Make me stop now!” He was breathing hard too.

She shook her head emphatically. No. She wanted. She yearned to feel the mystery of him. She must not let this opportunity pass. It may never come again.

Her hand was moving again. And then he closed it over…himself.

Her eyes flew wide open.

He let out a deep sigh, his eyes going out of focus for a moment as he shuddered with the initial contact, then smiled at her through lowered lashes.

“There,” he whispered, giving her a devilish smile she’d never seen on him before. “See what you do to me? Touch me as much as you like. Explore me, Victoria. Ask me anything and I will answer. Do anything you like to me. I cannot fight you anymore. I am entirely yours, my Queen.”

Her breath was ragged and she swallowed hard. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? She’d asked and now…oh he felt divine. So hard and yet so soft. So…big.

She ran her hand down the length of him, enjoying the moan of pleasure that escaped him as his eyes shuttered closed. Letting her fingers drift to the softness beneath, cupping gently.

“Oh…dear _God_ ,” he said, biting his lip.

She touched the hardness of him again, closed her hand around him. His eyes opened, looking glazed, and he reached down and took her hand in his again, tugging her hand heavily up himself, squeezing, and then dragging her hand hard all the way back down. He moaned softly, nuzzling her face with his, “Victoria…you have no idea…what the feeling of your hand on me here does to me.”

“Is it…” she smiled at him, feeling utterly shy at the moment, but encouraged when he smiled too. “Is it always so…”

“What?” He grinned. “Is it always so what?”

“Now _you_ are enjoying _my_ discomfort.”

“No, I’m enjoying your touch,” he gave her a sideways grin. “I’ve never seen you so shy before. Its enchanting. So is the red in your cheeks.”

“Is it always so big and hard? How have I not…seen it before?”

He laughed a little and kissed her ear. “It only happens when I am sexually excited,” he whispered.

“Oh…”

“The more excited I become, the bigger and harder it gets,” he was whispering now straight into her ear, his breath warm against her skin, and each word felt like a caress. “And you make me very excited, Victoria.”

She shivered. Her breath was coming in short little gasps and her mouth was utterly dry. That he would trust her enough to…share a part of himself that was so secret and so private with her. She felt honored and…special.

Almost idly, she stroked her fingers lightly along his length again and was treated to another moan.

“Does this feel good?”

“Extremely good,” he touched his forehead to hers, smoothing back the hair from her face and hooking it behind her ears. Then he took her face in his hands and kissed her again, long and lingering.

She parted her lips for him, deliberately, inviting. He gave her his tongue, sliding it inside her mouth, exploring her languidly, sending shivers up and down her spine, and repeating the curious dance in and out, in and out again. When he released her, she was gasping. Dazed. Lost. Empty without him.

“Please…”

His grin spread and almost touched his eyes.

“Please what, my beautiful Queen? What would you have of me? How may I serve you?”

She shivered, hardly knowing why. “More,” was the only word she could form.

He smiled again and bent his head and obliged her, giving her his tongue again.  Slowly he explored every inch of her mouth, twining his tongue with hers, kissing her tenderly and without hurry as his big hands cradled her face.

When he pulled away, it took Victoria several minutes to recover enough to open her eyes.

He smiled at her and nuzzled her again. Then he reached down between them to remove her hand from himself and then back to his lips to kiss her palm. “Now I trust your curiosity is satisfied…Ma’am?”

“No,” she breathed, “I want more of you.”

"Do you indeed?  Mmmm...Your Majesty, I perceive that you are agitated. Would you allow me to release you from some of your suffering?”

“Yes,” she nodded, hardly able to frame a thought now.

“It will involve me touching you as intimately as you have touched me. Would you permit that?”

“Yes!” she hardly knew what he spoke of, but she wanted—oh she wanted everything. Everything he knew the secret of and she did not. “Please!”

“You realize we have crossed a threshold, you and I,” he whispered, sliding his hand beneath the hem of her night dress, sliding up her bare skin.

Oh she wanted this. Yes! _So_ much!

“…Even though we have not made love fully, we are now lovers, you and I. We cannot go back to the way we once were.”

He kissed her slowly, deeply. Her body was on fire. She needed him. Needed this. His hand found her breast and she cried out against his mouth as white-hot pleasure erupted in her body.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Easy, My Love. There is so much more where that came from.” He released her breast and slid his hand down her stomach. Down. Lower down still. Until he found the place between her legs that had been throbbing since last night and…

“Oh my GOD!” Victoria’s eyes shot open and fixed on his.

“Breathe, Lovely One,” he whispered, his eyes drinking in her reaction. “That’s it…oh Victoria, you don’t know how I’ve longed to see you this way…to touch you like this…”

His long, deft fingers moved against her, creating eddies and swirls of pleasure all throughout her body. She looked at him in wonder, and placed one hand on his cheek.

“Let it build inside of you,” he whispered. “The feeling I’m creating in your body. Until it overwhelms you.”

“L-lord M…”

He covered her mouth with his and kissed her thoroughly. “William,” he reminded her. “I would have my first name on the lips of my lover.”

“William,” she breathed in response. She could not speak more. She was losing track of herself, drowning in his eyes, and the magic he wielding inside of her.

“My Beautiful Girl…,” he whispered, “You have no idea how I have dreamed of this. I want to make love to you in every possible way. Without end.”

His words had a most profound effect. The feelings that had been building inside of her suddenly burst through all of her restraint.

She screamed, as her body locked and…

YES! OH YESSS!

William covered her mouth with his as she screamed and screamed, groaning as he seemed to absorb all the pleasure he had created inside of her. His tongue in her mouth. His hands on her body. She was an instrument he played to perfection.

Eventually her body calmed, and she lay shuddering and trembling in his arms. His hand against her stilled, and he kissed her again and again, so sweetly.

“Thank you,” he whispered to her, eyes filled with something like joy. “You have given me a great gift this morning, Victoria.”

“I…have given… _you_ a gift?!” she could hardly speak.

“It brings me great pleasure to create that feeling in your body. To be the first man ever to do it.”

“What just happened?”

He chuckled. “You had an orgasm,” he replied, whispering the word against her cheek. “It is a climax that occurs with sex.”

“But I thought that—”

He kissed her. “There are more ways than one to give pleasure to one’s partner.”

Her body rippled with the greatest feeling she had ever known. All of her felt everything so keenly. The brush of the sheets. The coolness of the morning air. The warm and wonderful pulsing in her lower extremities. The heavy, solid weight of her…lover…where his body touched hers. Oh, how she loved thinking of him that way!

“William…” she touched his face, and was rewarded with one his most angelic smiles.

“I’m here,” he said simply. “Did it feel good?”

She felt the smile break out on her own features. “I thought I might be dying.”

He laughed. “Quite the reverse. You were discovering one of the greatest pleasures of living. How do you feel now? Calmer?”

“Yes, much,” she said. “I feel better than I’ve ever felt before.”

“Good,” he purred. “Now you understand more how it works? Your body grows heated as we touch, more and more excited, until your climax releases you—and you taste paradise.”

“Does it always happen like that?”

“If you have a lover who cares for you, yes. He can make that happen for you every time. Sometimes more than once.”

“What about you? Did you…”

“I have been _greatly_ pleasured this morning, Victoria.”

“But did you—you did not scream.”

He laughed a little. “No. Not this time. But I cannot promise I won’t scream sometime in the future.” He smiled into her eyes.

“Teach me. I want to know everything. I want to know how to please you this way.”

His mouth was on hers again. “You do please me. More than you know.”

“Will you teach me more?”

“Later,” he nuzzled her. “This is enough for now.”

Then he leaned forward and kissed her chastely on the forehead in dismissal.

“Come,” he said swallowing hard. “We have much to do today, and have overstayed our welcome, I am sure. We must be moving along. I just hope the Madame can be persuaded to grant us one more kindness.”


	8. Chapter 8--For Love of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord M and Victoria begin the process of acclimation to their surroundings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “No one’s ever mistaken me  
> For a prince in a fantasy,  
> It took your love to awaken me  
> And show me the man I could be…
> 
> For love of you,  
> I’ll fight the dragons  
> For love of you,  
> I’ll brave the storms…
> 
> I will come through  
> For love of you…”  
> ("For Love of You", Emil Chau Wakin, 1997).

Chapter 8—For Love of You

 

Lord Melbourne led his Queen down the street with a hand on her elbow in the direction Madame Alisanne indicated.

The dress she had loaned to Victoria was, in his opinion, entirely too red. And cut entirely too low. But considering the client the dress had been fashioned for and the purpose for which it was created, it was suitable. And, he supposed, scarlet red silk aside, it was a damn sight more appropriate and less provocative than Victoria strolling down the sidewalk in broad daylight in nothing but her night dress. Still. The sooner they reached the dressmaker’s shop, the better, he thought, glaring at the latest man who passed them with his eyes glued onto her decolletage.

“Do stop glowering so, Lord M. You look positively ferocious.”

“I feel positively ferocious,” he grumbled, taking her arm and looping it through the crook of his elbow protectively as he stared down yet another man with the impudence to look at his lady as though she were a fish at market, available for purchase.

 _His lady_. Yes, she was that now. He had crossed too many boundaries, both physically and emotionally. Damned if he’d think of her as anything less. Now or in his own century.

What that meant to the both of them, he was not prepared to contemplate too deeply just at the moment. And anyway, who was to say he’d ever see his own century again?

“And I feel positively stifled,” Victoria continued. “This is the tightest dress I have ever worn. I can scarce draw breath.”

“I know the feeling, Ma’am,” he said, deliberately not looking down at her for fear he would start slobbering all down her dress.

“I do hope this is not indicative of the modern fashion. I don’t think I could abide it.”

“The dress shop should be around the next corner. Madame Alisanne said the owner is an old friend, and soft-hearted enough to perhaps sell us a gown on credit. Hopefully one that fits.”

“Credit, Lord M?”

“Yes Ma’am, it means you take possession of something now, and promise to pay for the item later, in a way mutually agreed upon by both parties.”

“Do people often purchase things in such a way?”

“Quite often, Ma’am. Many times to their own detriment when they find they cannot pay it off.”

“Do be careful Lord M. If we get thrown into debtor’s prison in these times, we may not survive the experience.”

“I’m well aware of such, Ma’am. If you will allow me, I have a plan which might help offset some of these minor expenses.”

She nodded with acceptance, and his heart was touched as always with the faith she always placed in his ability to handle any situation. But his plan was far from foolproof, and it was one he found himself liking less and less as time went on. In fact, it potentially subjected them both to a great deal of danger did it not succeed. However if it did succeed, it could just become one of the most fascinating experiences of both of their lives, and might enable them to make a life for themselves in this century, far from the censure of their own.

A life where he and his Queen could truly be together, and happy. It was a possibility he could scarce allow himself to contemplate. And yet…

They found the dressmaker with no great difficulty.

“Just allow me to do the talking, Ma’am. And please, whatever I say, just nod and smile and agree with me.”

They were greeted at the door by a young woman, plainly but smartly dressed, who ushered them inside. The proprietress of the tiny shop was a woman about Victoria’s height, with an open, caring face.

“Good day, Madam. Through an extraordinary chain of events, my wife has need of some clothing rather urgently. We were on our way home to Hampshire from our honeymoon in France, and our ship was set upon by privateers. We were set adrift and left for dead but were rescued eventually by a worthy fisherman. Unfortunately, all of our luggage was lost with the ship. Upon finally arriving in London late last night, we had the good fortune to come across a very charitable woman by the name of Madame Alisanne. She let us a room for the night and this dress, which we have promised to return upon reaching your establishment. The attack occurred at night, you see, after we had already retired for bed, and I fear my poor wife only has a night dress to her name. Of course, under normal circumstances, we would merely send home for a footman to bring her something suitable, but we are only newly married, and—well, she had everything with her, I’m afraid.”  It was a feeble story at best, he thought, but under the circumstances it was the best he could offer. 

“Oh. The poor dear! Yes of course. You’ve come to the right place, Sir.”

Well, that was the first hurdle cleared.  Now for the next.

“Also, we are a bit short of coin at the moment. I’d already removed my money belt and…well, I’m sure within a few days’ time I can arrange for payment to be sent in full but just at the moment, I’ve nothing to offer you.”  He waited with a knot in his throat for the woman's expression to turn sour and her to turn them back out into the street. 

“Oh well, I’m sure ye’re good for it, Sir. We offer very reasonable terms for repayment so no need to fret about that. If you would be so good as to give me your names?” The sempstress looked up at him with admiring eyes, waiting for the information.  He could hardly believe she'd accepted his story so readily, but was disinclined at the moment to question such good fortune. Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ah…I am Viscount Lord…Palmerston. And this is…Viscountess Lady…Palmerston.” William silently begged the forgiveness of his sister and brother-in-law for borrowing their names.

The sempstress nodded appreciatively. “Well then. My Lady, I am so sorry to hear of your troubles! I think we might have something to suit ye just fine. Come along then. The Madame will be wanting that dress back again afore nightfall, I’ve no doubt. And it’s not suitable for a Viscountess in any case!” She gave William a once over. “You seem to be in need as well Sir.”

“Y-yes. I fear I am. But my wife’s need is greater.”

“Well, as so happens, ye’re in luck, Sir. Mr. Sawley has a tailor shop, across the way. Tell ‘im I sent you and he’ll give you reasonable enough terms on a new suit for yerself. It should be enough to see you both home.”

“Thank you,” he bowed to their new benefactor, and arranged to call back for Victoria in an hour. Only after he had been reasonably certain she would be looked after properly did he leave the premises to attend to his own needs, feeling like the world’s biggest scoundrel.

How easily the lies had flown from his lips! Victoria herself had seemed startled. But they were desperate, after all. And he’d already been thinking about the constant need they would have for coin to see them through some of their most immediate needs before he’d be able to set his plan into motion.

He just hoped Mr. Sawley would appreciate his fine 19th Century Savile Row tailoring, and might take at least his velvet waistcoat in partial exchange. It was a shame to part with it, as it was his second best one and just about his last tangible link to his own time. Unfortunately though, it was also his last item of any appreciable value with which to bargain.  So he supposed it would have to do.

 

*       *        *

 

Victoria quite liked her new, deep blue Renaissance gown. It’s bodice was very severe, with a deep pointed cut down her belly like she’d seen in paintings of the time, but trimmed in fanciful, swirling white threaded embroidery around the edges. The same trim formed a tiny border around the square neckline, and at the hem of her skirt. The fabric of the gown itself was made of elegant, if heavy, brocade and it’s sleeves were stylishly slashed with light blue, but otherwise it was very simple and unadorned. But the starched ruff collar itched something awful, and she’d flatly refused to wear one of those silly headdresses that made her look as though she’d got her face wedged in a box. If that was the best they could offer, than Renaissance England would have to contend with her being bareheaded, and that was all there was to that. “How did people put up with this dreadful thing?” She asked Lord M as they set off together down the street, one hand in the crook of his arm and the other tugging at her ruff, looking to all the world like a typical, aristocratic Tudor-era couple.

“Oh, I’m sure if we lived in this time we’d think nothing of it. It is fashion, after all.”

She gazed at him and her mouth hitched up at the sides. “I think you should have an earring, Lord M. You’d look rather dashing. Like a pirate.”

He looked dashing in truth anyway, with his wine-colored velvet doublet striped with gold threading and an endless row of golden buttons down the front, framed by ivory sleeves slashed with burgundy. The matching cape he wore tossed rakishly over one shoulder, with its golden rope-like spiral embroidered trim. His ivory pants slashed with burgundy underneath matched the sleeves of his ensemble and stopped at the knee, while his lower legs were covered in white hose and topped with burgundy shoes trimmed with a square golden buckle. A thick, starched white ruff, and a slouch velvet hat in the same wine color, embellished with yet more golden stitching and topped with a magnificent black feather set off the ensemble to perfect effect. Set against his dark hair and luminous green eyes, the color was spectacular. He was truly breathtaking.

Resplendent, in fact.

“You wouldn’t think me too much of a dandy?” He gave her a sideways smile. “Surely when a man gets to be a certain age, he can be forgiven some of fashion’s most hideous extremes.”

“Well. Not all of them, perhaps.” Victoria’s glance dropped pointedly to a very highly accentuated and decorated part of his anatomy, and her grin spread. “Some might call that extreme, Lord M.”

“I assure you, it is not. Unfortunately it is a necessary addition to a man’s wardrobe in these times. These infernal trousers do not connect in the middle. And this was one of the less outrageous options.”

Victoria sputtered with mirth.

“You wound me most grievously, Ma’am,” He said with affected dignity, his eyes filled with mock reproach. “And anyway, it’s not seemly for you to stare...or giggle...at my expense.” He gave her a slow smile that, despite his very interesting wardrobe made her blood race.

“But I thought that was exactly the purpose. I am supposed to be impressed by your very male anatomy, am I not?”

“And are you?”

“I already was, as well you should know. Though I do not fancy other women having so much cause to glance down at that particular part of your ensemble, Lord M.” This most conspicuous wardrobe item was unapologetically golden in color, in proud contrast to the ivory of his pants. It was—out of necessity she knew--quite enormous, and prominent and…shockingly suggestive in shape. “You are far too handsome as it is, and so splendidly attired to begin with. It shall be hard to…ignore.”

He grinned at her, and whispered conspiratorially in her ear. “Perhaps I do not wish you to ignore it...Ma’am.”

“And other women? Do you wish them not to ignore it as well?”

“There is only one woman who’s attention I wish to captivate.” He gave her that same slow smile. “As well you should know by now.” He looked her over, eyes moving up and down in a most gratifying way. “If I may say so, Ma’am, you wear this century very well yourself. It is a lovely gown, and the perfect shade of blue to match your eyes.”

“I feel much more dignified now,” she said. “I felt such a trollop in that hideous red thing. And this bodice is not nearly so tight or cut so low.”

“Thank goodness," he said.  "You are always the most beautiful woman in any room, Ma’am. No matter what your attire. But I am pleased that now when you step out with me, I shall not feel obliged to hire an armed guard to protect your virtue.”

“An armed guard? Heavens was it that bad?”

“You have no idea, Ma’am.”

"I still do not know how you managed to persuade the tailor to part with such an elegant suit for absolutely no money, Lord M.  I do have some inkling as to how you managed with Mrs. Goodson, the seamstress.  But I doubt even your considerable charm would work on someone of your own sex."

"On the whole, that would be true, of course.  But I fear that Mr. Sawley the tailor has rather more...eccentric tastes in such matters and so I found him fairly easier to persuade than anticipated.  Well that, and he did quite admire my second best waistcoat and my trousers, which did also afford me some extra value in the trade.  And gave me the address we are currently seeking to help offset any further financial difficulties we might encounter."

"Your powers of persuasion never cease to amaze me, Lord M.  Truly, I don't know how I kept my countenance as you talked of privateers."

"I'm very grateful you did.  I don't mind persuading of course, but, it goes against the grain to lie.  It was most difficult and uncomfortable.  But I cannot argue with the result."  He looked aside at her and gave her one of his special smiles that always made her glow inside.

 "I confess," she said after she finally tore her eyes from his, "that I like being your wife, Lord M."

"Even though I'm no richer than a beggar?  You do flatter me overmuch, Ma'am."

"You forget I am also reduced to begging."

"You will never be reduced to begging Ma'am, as long as I have anything to say about it."

"Well, you have certainly managed it all rather prettily, Lord M, as I knew you would."  She smiled, and placed her other hand on the crook of his elbow affectionately. “Now that I am not feeling so out-of-place, it is rather pleasant, is it not, strolling through Elizabeth’s England?” She whispered excitedly. “I find I like the architectural styles of this time. And it looks so new. Quite a contrast to what this street might look like in our time.”

“Indeed Ma’am. The half timbered style is most handsome.  New or old.”

“Do you think we might get to see Shakespeare? To meet him?” She squeezed his elbow excitedly.

“It depends on what year we’ve landed in, Ma’am,” he whispered. “You see, over there near the Thames,” he pointed to a patch of undeveloped land, “if my bearings are correct, that is where the Globe Theater is supposed to stand.”

“But there is nothing there.”

“Precisely what leads me to believe that our arrival predates at least Shakespeare’s rise to prominence. After his death the theater still stood.”

“Oh. How disappointing. To come so far and still miss him.”

“Yes, I would have loved to have made his acquaintance. I had an idea for a sonnet I would have loved to present him with.”

They had reached their destination.

“I’m afraid I must ask you to wait on me again, Ma’am. I must go and conduct a matter of business. But I shan’t be a moment.  And if I'm successful, we might even have a place to sleep tonight.”

 

*      *       *

 

The clothes of a gentleman and lady were of mighty help in bluffing one’s way through life, Lord Melbourne reflected. At least to a point.

Realizing the necessity, after acquiring the appropriate garments for the era, he had gone to see a wealthy Jew who’s establishment they had been recommended to by Mr. Sawley the tailor. An old and experienced yet kindly usurer, Isaac Goldberg, had been swayed by Melbourne’s obvious status as a gentleman to make him a loan of a staggering one hundred pounds at an exorbitant rate. Once his debts to the dressmaker and tailor were satisfied, along with a small thank you to Madame Alisanne, he had booked their night in a small but comfortable inn, along with the promise of supper and breakfast. For the moment, they had coin enough to satisfy their immediate needs. But soon enough, it would run out, and his debt to the kindly Jew would be due in a period of six months, with a twenty percent interest rate.

It was not by any means an insignificant amount of money in Tudor times, and yet it was also not enough to live on indefinitely. And with no discernible way to pay it back, the debt had left him in a state of great anxiety. He simply could not keep going like this. It was an intolerable state of affairs.

Something had to be done to solve their financial concerns, and fast.  Victoria must be provided for, stably, and in a style that befitted her rank as at least a noblewoman, if not Queen.

Poverty was a state he was thankful to have been wholly unconnected with throughout the entirety of his life. His family, comfortably ensconced, titled and propertied as they were among the ranks of the British aristocracy, had always had enough to live a comfortable life without too much fear of reprisal or running short. To not have the means to live as a gentleman should was a scenario he had always had an absolute horror of. As a result, he had been temperate with his own spending. All very well when you have your own estate and houses, your title, your friends, family and associates, money in your bank account and your position in society all firmly in tact.

To be removed from it all—plucked out of one’s existence and unceremoniously deposited into another place and time without so much as a by-your-leave, and with only the clothes on one’s own back, no less--was simply intolerable.

How does one pick up one’s self and start again from scratch, with no resources and not so much as the promise of the next meal, or even a lean-to under which one could shelter from the rain?

He stared at the fire, and suddenly missed his own hearth at Brocket Hall very much indeed.

Still. One thing at a time.

Their first day in Tudor London had ended successfully enough. They had satisfied their most immediate needs for clothing, food, shelter and operative coin. Now came the difficult business of dealing with the reality of their situation, and deciding where to go from here.  And that was the real dilemma. 

He had never worked a day in his life.

Not in the sense the common rank and file did. Oh sure, he’d been an MP, and served in various offices of government throughout the realm, and now of course he was Prime Minister. But that was a different matter entirely. That was a matter of honor. Of service. Of a Lord’s duty to Queen and country. It was not the same as obtaining employment in order to earn one’s daily bread. And anyway, somehow he thought the skills of governing 18th and 19th Century England were not very easily transferable to the 16th Century. Especially without rank, title, lands, privilege, letters of entry…

No. It simply would not do. And all the practical skills necessary to make one’s way in the world he did not really possess. And at his time of life, it was a bit late to attempt something new. And even did he want to try, there would be barriers. Their manners, their way of speaking, as well as their clothing all betrayed them both as members of the aristocracy. And the nobility did not work. Not like the common people did.

And there was the matter of Victoria. She was depending on him to find a way out of this place. Depending on him to supply her needs in the meantime.

He could not let her down.

All the more reason why his plan must succeed.

It was risky, he acknowledged. Too risky for his liking. He would much prefer for himself and Victoria to stay out of view--two nameless faces in a sea of humanity, where they could come and go at will, with no meddling by outside forces in their affairs. But more and more, he felt it would not be possible. If they were to stay here for any length of time past this evening, then he must find a way to sustain them both until a method could be discovered that could send them both home again.

An income source was what they needed. Stability, and the assurance of life’s basic needs and amenities, so that they could turn their attention to the business of finding a way home.

And there was only one place he could think of to procure it.


	9. Chapter 9--A Thousand Beautiful Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord M and Victoria discuss their options in the brave new circumstances they find themselves in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Pickin' up the pieces of what's left to find...
> 
> The world was meant for you and me  
> To figure out our destiny…
> 
> To live, to die  
> To breathe, to sleep  
> To try to make your life complete...
> 
> So, light me up like the sun  
> To cool down with your rain  
> I never want to close my eyes again  
> Never close my eyes…”  
> (”A Thousand Beautiful Things”, Annie Lennox, 2004).

Chapter 9—A Thousand Beautiful Things

 

She found him sitting next to the fire, a cup of wine in his hand, white shirt open at the neck, staring into the flames with a most serious and somber expression. Though his lower body was still almost perfectly dressed, his hat, cloak, doublet and sleeves lay in a gleaming pile of burgundy velvet and gold thread on the stool of the small dressing stand. Lord M, always so impeccably dressed when he was out in public, did indeed seem to live in a state of consistent, careless disarray whenever he was in private. The thought made her smile. She found him irresistible in both places. But she was filled with joy at being allowed to see him this way. Not so very long ago he would have been appalled and embarrassed. But now, they were on such intimate terms that he no longer seemed to mind.

It was as he had said to her this morning—there was no going back to the way it had been before. They were on a new footing now. It seemed as though he had accepted as much.

Nevertheless, he seemed pensive, troubled.

Not wishing to interrupt his thoughts, she came and joined him next to the warm hearth, seating herself quietly in the companion chair to his without saying a word, waiting patiently for him to acknowledge her.

Victoria, for her own part, was delighted with their current situation. He had booked only one room for them tonight and signed the book Viscount Lord and Lady Palmerston. They were, for all anyone knew in this time, already married. Though she understood that it was more about the necessity of conserving coin and maintaining outward appearances, there was no denying the practical implications of this policy meant that they were once again sharing a bedroom—and a bed. A second night in his arms—she could hardly wait! What had she done to deserve such a delicious opportunity? His troubled countenance was her only concern.

“I suppose it would do me no good to volunteer to sleep on the floor again, Your Majesty?” He said with humor dancing in his eyes.

“No indeed. For this floor is just as filthy as the last, Lord M. And as unhealthy.”

He laughed, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Minx. What am I to do with you?”

 _Make love to me_ , she thought at him, but didn’t dare to voice it. “It would seem that you have no choice but to concede with a good grace to the wishes of your monarch, and obtain a healthy night’s rest,” she said instead.

“We can’t go on like this, Victoria.” He said, his eyes serious as he again gazed into the fire.

Her heart skipped a beat. “Go on…like what?” She asked when she’d finally worked up the courage to do so.

“We’ve no means of accruing income. I’ve borrowed our way here, but sooner or later, we’ll be called to pay what we owe. We must find a solution.”

She took a deep breath. Thank God it was only money he meant.

“Well. You’ve got a very fine voice, Lord M. Perhaps we could sing for our supper,” she said in an effort to make him smile.

“I was perfectly serious, Ma’am. It is something we must discuss.”

“Very well,” she said, adopting her most queen like posture and voice. “I am ready when you are.”

“I believe I have come up with a possible solution, but it will require a great deal of bravery on your part. And it is not without its element of risk. But it is the only way I can see.”

“If there is risk, I am perfectly willing and ready to accept it. Pray continue.”

He took a deep breath.

“Very well. In that case, Ma’am, my recommendation is that we call upon your predecessor, and ask for aid.”

Victoria’s heart skipped a beat. “You mean…to ask assistance from Queen Elizabeth?”

He nodded, watching her closely. “For you.  There is a chance she will refuse us. And if she perceives us to be impostors, there will be virtually no way to prove we are not spies. Our very lives could be forfeit. And in most unpleasant ways. Torture is still very much in use in this century.”

She swallowed hard. “To ask her…for charity…”

“I know. It sticks in my throat as well. But you need shelter. Food. Clothing. Stability. Security. She can give it to you. I cannot. I cannot see any other way of providing your needs until we can find our way home again. I cannot even search for a way until these have been satisfied.”

“But what of you? Are you proposing we should be separated? I shall not permit it. I’d rather starve in the hedgerows with you than live in the most gilded cage in the deepest of comfort while you suffer.”

“I am not proposing we be separated. Not entirely. But tomorrow, when we leave here, we will no longer be married, and we will leave the Palmerston name behind, as well. It has served its purpose. It will be as if Lord and Lady Palmerston simply disappeared. Tomorrow we will stay in another inn under our new identities in order to establish a trail, in case anyone cares to attempt to trace us later.”

“Trace us? Why ever for?”

“I do not know what year it is, but Elizabeth’s reign was plagued with intrigue and plots to overthrow her. Her spy network was vast. Depending upon where we are in the timeline, we might even have Sir Francis Walsingham, her famous spymaster, to contend with. If we are regarded with suspicion, then he may assume we are part of a plot to put Mary, Queen of Scots on the throne and assassinate Elizabeth, or spy for Phillip of Spain. Based upon the empty field the Globe Theater will eventually occupy, I think it’s safe to assume that Mary Stewart is still very much alive, and the Spanish Armada years, perhaps even decades, away from defeat. Which makes them both a very real threat.”

“And you believe we may be implicated if we appear out of nowhere.”

“These are dangerous and uncertain times. Any number of devious motives can be attributed to us if we are too suspicious. We must make a convincing enough trail. If we had enough money, I’d take us to Dover, even to France, and make our way back to Whitehall under new names. But I cannot risk the little coin we have left in such a dangerous venture. We shall simply have to make due with what we have, and invent a convincing enough story for the circumstances of our arrival to be borne out.”

“Do we have such a story?”

“That is what I have been considering.”

“Why…why must we not be married anymore, Lord M?” She bit her lip. It seemed a small point in lieu of everything he was considering. But she had to know.

“Because I think our case will provoke far less sympathy from our current sovereign, Ma’am, were we to arrive at Whitehall as a destitute married couple. If, however, you were my cousin, for instance—widowed and orphaned due to a series of unfortunate circumstances that has left you no where else to turn but to me--it would give you a far more sympathetic plight. Especially were you to be a foreign lady. And it would explain my role in your life, you see, and give us an excuse to appear together.”

“Foreign, Lord M? Where do you propose I should hail from if not from my own country?”

“Prussia, Ma’am. If Elizabeth is Queen, then the Duchy of Prussia has already been established. It’s not too far removed from your true origins, after all, and it is Protestant. And your German is flawless.”

She owned it was a sound idea. “Why widowed?” She said, wrinkling her nose. “Is there necessity of inventing tragedy as well?”

He fidgeted with his glass for a moment before turning the full force of his golden green eyes on her, glowing like a great cat’s in the firelight.

“Widowhood status affords a woman certain…freedoms…that an unmarried maiden does not have.”

Held suspended as she was in his gaze, her breath caught in her throat. There could be no mistaking his meaning. She swallowed hard, her pulse beating frantically.

“I cannot appear as your husband. But if I am your cousin—a distant cousin—then, as your only next of kin and as a somewhat older male relative, it puts me naturally in the position of your guardian.” He rolled his empty cup between his hands, not meeting her eyes as he spoke. “But we would not be too closely related to make a future…marriage between us entirely impossible. Then, if we are very careful…”

“We could become lovers,” she finished quietly, meeting his eyes. “As a widow I’m not expected to be a virgin.”

“We are lovers already,” he said softly. “After what we’ve shared in the last twenty-four hours we could hardly consider ourselves otherwise. But I would have you know that if I could, I’d ask you to marry me tomorrow. There is nothing I want more in the world than you.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut. His words ran over her like a physical caress.

“I know it is unconventional,” he said softly, “but you must consider, we do not know how we arrived here. Though I intend to fully search for a way home for us both, it is possible we may never see the 19th Century again. The only place your virginity matters is there. Here…you are no longer Queen, and we have an opportunity to reinvent ourselves…to be whatever we please. Not many people get that chance. I know that the circumstance is not ideal, and it is far from what I would wish it to be. But I think we must own that the truth of the matter is that although we cannot yet marry, our feelings for each other will not allow us to keep away from each other, no matter the circumstance. If you were to be a widow then...we could be together, so long as we are discreet.”  He finished softly.  "If you wish it."

Victoria stared at the fire.  Be together...but not married. It was something that she had not fully considered.  And yet...his proposal made sense. If she were to arrive at court, claiming to be a virgin and then they were to make love it would be scandalous.  But like this, who would ever know? 

Still, when he stated it like that—so matter-of-factly—it seemed so…real. So imminent. Was she truly ready for this? Was she ready to commit herself this far—to give her virginity to him without marriage? She was and yet, she feared the consequences. Should she return home, how would she explain her newly altered state?

“Of course,it does not have to be,” he said quietly, observing her closely. “If you wish it, we can still say you are a maiden. The rest of the story need not change. And I would still be able to look after you.” Hurt was in his eyes, but he turned back to the fire and took a drink. Trying to mask it from her.

“No,” she said quickly. “I do not wish that. Widowhood…” she swallowed hard, swallowed all her misgivings, looking into his eyes. “Widowhood is much more…desirable.”

Relief, and something like excitement bubbled to the surface of his eyes and he sighed. A smile flashed briefly on his face and some of the concern that had been etched there moments before melted into tenderness.

“In that case, I recommend that our story be that you have only been widowed a very short time,” he said, studying his hands, his long eyelashes catching the light of the fire as they fanned against his cheek. “That way, in case anything happens we do not plan on—”

“—There is a respectable explanation.  At least for a little while.” She clasped her own hands against the flat plane of her stomach and pressed her lips together hard. A child…with Lord M! The prospect was one she had not before considered. She had always had a great fear of childbirth, but the thought of holding a baby in her arms with eyes like the man before her had a strange effect upon her. It filled her heart to overflowing to think of him as a father again. To be able to give him such a gift would be worth whatever the risk to herself. To look down at a tiny face, to know it was a part of them both…but to have the child be a bastard was unfair.  To them all.  But if there was a choice only between bastard and not at all...she knew which she would choose.

Here, she was no longer the Queen. Her life was her own to do with what she chose. It wasn't what either of them wanted.  But they could be together…

If she chose.

It was the oddest sensation. As if pieces inside of her broke away from each other, reshuffled themselves and clicked back into place again in a different and far more beautiful and meaningful arrangement.  

He looked up and met her eyes. He sucked in an audible breath, his eyes bottomless as they regarded her, until she felt—she knew—she was looking straight into his soul, and he into hers.   He could read her well enough to know the train of her thoughts.  What she was considering.  His expression was wholly unguarded, defenseless, his emotions and desires laid bare before her, coalescing into one central question.

 _Do you really want me?_ His eyes asked. _If you do, here I am._

“Newly widowed status may also buy you some breathing space from the no doubt hordes of men who will be seeking the favor of your hand the moment you appear at court.” His eyes shuttered and he was gazing at his cup again, his face melancholy.

“But I don’t wish to—”

“Eventually, you may have no choice.” He smiled sadly. “It is a reality we would be foolish not to acknowledge. The fact that you are no longer Queen is both a blessing and a curse.”

“But I don’t wish to marry anyone.” _Except you_ , she added silently.

“I know Victoria,” he met her eyes again, and for a moment she felt he really did know. He nodded at her in that particular way of his that expressed understanding, encouragement and humor all at once. “I know. But it may not be up to you. If a man with good prospects decides he wants you, he can go to the Queen and request her permission. The granting of such is both permission and command. You will not be able to refuse.”

She was beginning to see how undesirable going to Elizabeth’s court may be.

“Must we embark upon this scheme? Perhaps it would be best if we—”

“How can we, Majesty? I have no prospects. No property, no home, no title, no connections. No background. Nothing. And now, debts that will require repayment. I must find a way to live in this place, for both our sakes. And it is too late for me to reinvent myself as a labourer, I fear. I am ill-suited to the life of a common man. As you are ill-equipped to become a common man’s wife. We were born to a different way of life, you and I.”

“But I shouldn’t mind. Not if we are together. I am sure we will manage—”

“But I should,” he looked at her with the most serious expression she had ever seen on his face. “I should mind very much if I cannot provide for you. If anything happened to me here, you should be left all alone, and with no legacy and no support.” He shook his head. “It would be most selfish and irresponsible—nay, reprehensible—of me to not consider that very material point. I am at a time in life, Victoria, where a man’s fortune should already be laid in place, his family and heirs well provided for. And yet I find myself adrift. The total sum of my life’s efforts and those of my family’s wrenched from my hands as though it had never been. Were I a younger man, I should feel brave enough to conquer the world and lay it at your feet. Confident enough to ask you to wait. As it is, I have all the desire to do so and none of the wherewithal. I do not have enough time to start over.  And should we invent ourselves as members of the lower orders here, there would be no future for you.  No conceivable way for you to rise out of poverty once I am gone.  What you do not mind when I am living I think you would mind very much once I am gone.”

“Lord M—”

“No,” he shook his head. “I know what you will say, and, I am grateful beyond words for your belief in me. But I know this to be true. I must find a way home for us. And if I do not, then I must set about finding a life for you here. Even if it is with another man who can provide for you when I cannot.”

“But I cannot marry another man! A Tudor man at that!”

“I certainly don’t wish it either. And I fervently hope, along with you, Ma’am, that there may be another way. I’m only mentioning it because it is one possibility.” He sighed. “Elizabeth, by all accounts, was known for being somewhat softhearted when the fancy struck her. You are a woman, like her. You are lovely and young, obviously noble and well bred. And very much in need of her generosity. Your adopted country is reassuringly Protestant. If she takes a liking to you and brings you into her court, your needs will be provided for. If I am allowed to stay on as your guardian, then I shall be able to pay my debts and perhaps find a place for myself here that will enable me to get on in this world a little. And if we are very lucky, once I have procured a means to keep you, my dearest Queen, then I will be in a position to offer for you. Should you still be available, and willing, and should the Queen approve. Then you and I can marry in truth, retire from court and live quietly somewhere.”

“And if someone offers for me first, then I must go to him.”

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. The only sound in the room was from the crackling and popping of the fire as they both seemed to digest the significance of their words.

“It is as I said. A dangerous and risky plan,” he said finally. “One who’s endgame may be entirely out of our hands. And once we set foot on this road, Victoria, there will be no going back again.”

She nodded. “And there is no other way?”

He shook his head. No. Unless you want me to set up shop and sell fish at market or something. Once I learn how to catch fish. But that sort of profession will not allow me to pay off the debt I owe Mr. Goldberg, nor keep you indoors.”

“But you are good at many things. Writing, for instance. And gardening.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Neither of which would earn me any more money.”

“Horseback riding. And you are very clever, Lord M. Maybe you could be a tutor or…or…”

“A politician?” He gave her a self-deprecating smile. “I fear none of those skills are very marketable in this time period, Ma’am. The only way to generate income of any significant amount here comes from the ownership of land.”

She began to see the point he was making.

“If it were just me on my own, I shouldn’t mind so much being poor and homeless. I could always earn enough to provide my basic needs. But you, Ma’am…you need and deserve far more than that.”

“I deserve to be with the man I…choose to be with.” _Love!_ Why could she not say the word?

“Of course you do. But you also deserve a roof over your head, decent clothing and the life of a highborn lady, if not a Queen. How could I be so selfish as to keep you from that when it is in my power to give it to you? Indirectly or otherwise.”

“But what if someone should ask for me right away?! It is intolerable, Lord M!”

“If it happens right away, you needn’t worry. Being newly widowed, the Queen will have some sympathy for you and probably insist upon you being given a time of mourning. And take heart, for there is another inhibitor—men in this time marry for money and power, just like in any other. Perhaps even more so. You, my dear, have none of either. No land, no connections, no money. Nothing but your own sweet self. That will also prove a barrier to your being forced to marry. No matter how beautiful you are. And if a man is willing to take you for yourself alone, well then he must be very deeply in love with you, and you will no doubt be treated very well.”

“But I don’t wish to be treated well by anyone but you!” _Or to be deeply loved_ , she added silently.

“I assure you, Victoria, that your wishes and mine are entirely in harmony.” He turned, and putting his cup down, took her hands in his, tracing the back of her hand with his thumb before bringing them both to his lips. “We shall both hope and pray the stars align to make you mine in truth, as well as in our hearts.”

_The stars._

“How do you think we got here, Lord M? In this century, I mean?”

“I have been wondering that very thing. There’s no rational explanation for it, of course. It defies the imagination.”

“Were you, by any chance, stargazing when you were last at Dover House?”

He looked at her sharply. “Why do you ask?”

“Only that…I was and…then I was here. There was a shooting star. I made a wish upon it. But not for this!”

“Extraordinary…” he said, eyes growing glazed. “Now that you mention it, I did see that star.”

“Did you make a wish?”

“I did.” His eyes were round as they regarded hers. “That is the last thing I remember!”

“Me too.”

He swallowed hard and released her hands. His visage looked a little pale. Running one hand through his hair distractedly, he turned back to the fire. “I never imagined that day we were riding, and you thanked me for the telescope, that it was anything more than a fanciful, romantic idea.”

“Do you think it was that which brought us here?”

He shook his head no, as if trying to rid himself of a notion too fantastic to contemplate.

“I…confess I had not considered it. I have not had time to consider much beyond our immediate needs, and the very pleasant distractions of your beauty, Ma’am. But it makes as much sense as any other explanation.” He slumped into the chair and made one of those helpless gestures with his hands that Victoria always thought was so adorable. “In which case, we truly may never see home again.”

“But you did not wish to travel to the time of Elizabeth, I am sure. And neither did I. So why are we here? Perhaps it was not the star at all.”

“What did you wish for, Victoria?” He asked quietly.

“I’m not telling, for it has not yet come to pass, and if there is any magic at play with us here, Lord M, I’m not about to ruin it.”

He huffed another laugh. “I suppose then for the same reason, I should not tell you what I wished for.”

“I wish I could ask you,” she said.

“I wish I could ask you as well.” He smiled at her.

“Do you really think me beautiful, Lord M?” Victoria did finally ask. He’d said it before, and yet, somehow, she should like to hear him say it again. To be truly thought so by him…

“Yes,” he said simply, his voice husky, his eyes dark as he regarded her. “So that it hurts to look at you sometimes. And at others, it is hard to look at anything else.”

She swallowed hard. Tears had come to her eyes at the expression in his.

“The same could be said of you,” she said finally, taking in his strong profile, the way the firelight highlighted all the sharp, angular planes of his face, making him look at once forbidding as a mountain, and yet, the glow of his long eyelashes, the riot of curls framing his face and the sensuous line of his mouth softened the silhouette and gave him a boyish venerability that she always found charming. “Some men are handsome enough. But you take my breath away.”

He looked at her with an expression of such complete amazement that she felt her heart melt. It was clear to her yet again how utterly neglected this beautiful man had been from the women in his life. How could he be so unaware of all the admiring glances thrown his way as he made his way through any public gathering?

His lips curved into a small, beatific smile that lit his eyes. Clearly pleased, he shook his head. “Well. They do say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” he stroked a finger across one eyebrow in an expression of incredulity. “I suppose it is true. In any case, you know how susceptible to flattery I am. I thank you for the compliment. Ma’am.”

His eyes rested tenderly on her and she found herself fiddling with her hands and unable to meet his gaze. Why was she feeling so shy suddenly? Last night, and this morning…had it really only been a matter of hours? She had been fearless. Daring. Brazen even. She did not know why she didn’t feel more so now. Especially after all that had happened between them. Everywhere they had touched each other. All that he had made her feel.

Perhaps it was that they were no longer even attempting to hide their feelings from one another, speaking so freely and casually about things that only yesterday would have been inconceivable to utter. Things truly were different between them now. The thought made her in some ways regretful, because their relationship had always been beautiful in its own way. But at the same time, it was exciting, this new phase. It felt so strange, and yet, so right.

She glanced up to find his piercing gaze still on her, his cherubic smile still playing across his lips. Heat shot through her at the expression stirring in their green depths. She had often seen him look at her thus, but until now, she had not had a name for it. Now, she knew it for what it was.

Desire.

Was this really happening? Were they really here together, all alone, sharing a room in such cozy intimacy, within a few steps of a large fourposter bed, into which they both would retire soon? Had he really kissed her, touched her, made her feel…

Had she really hand her hands around…

A bolt of heat shot through her.

 _Lover_ , her heart sang, gazing at him. It felt like a beautiful dream that couldn’t possibly be true, but that she never wanted to wake up from.

 _Her_ Lover. _Her_ William. _Her_ sweet Lord M, the dearest of men.

Oh yes, it felt so very right.

She licked her dry lips.

“I shall not accept a proposal from anyone else,” she whispered, holding his eyes. “Should I receive a thousand from men rich as Croesus. Have no fears upon that subject. For there is no one I…care for…save you.” Why could she not bring herself to say _love_? It had been on the tip of her mind. Just the thought of the word sent her into a kind of panic. Why should it be, when she had known she loved him almost from the beginning? Did she still fear his reaction? She berated herself for being a fool. Here they were discussing marriage, and sex, and she still could not say the one word to him that she most felt, most wanted to say.

“As I said before, the fact that you are not Queen in this century is both blessing and curse,” he said. “It makes you freer, and yet imprisons you more. If the Queen says you will marry a particular man, you will marry him, or suffer her wrath.  You cannot refuse.”

“So either way, in either place I find myself, I am forced to marry against my will!” She stood and paced around their small room angrily. “In my own century, where I am Queen, I am forced to marry a man I do not want, because I am Queen, and the man I do want is not deemed by others to be worthy. Here, I am not Queen, but I still cannot marry the man I want because now I have to obey someone else’s will again! It is intolerable!”

“I agree,” he said with a laugh as he stood before her, eyes filled with tenderness. “You honor me Ma’am,” he said softly, taking her hands and bringing them to his lips, “more than you will ever know, with your display of emotion and your high regard for me. It is far better than I deserve.”

“I do nothing of the sort. You are the best man I have ever known, Lord M, as I have told you before. And I cannot…even imagine…anyone else but you beside me. Always.”

The sadness was back in his eyes as he gazed at their hands, blinking hard. “I wish it could be, Ma’am. I wish it could be for always. More than you shall ever know.”

“I will not have it any other way!”

“You must…own…there is a great difference in our ages…”

“But why should I care about that? Why indeed do you?”

“Because I…shall not…be able to be by your side always, Ma’am. No matter how we both wish…”

“Don’t say such things, Lord M! I cannot abide it!”

“I must! You must hear it!”

“I shall hear nothing of the sort! You are in excellent health…robust and strong…”

“Yes, Ma’am, but for how long? Neither of us knows. And in this century, removed from the comfort of familiar surroundings, proper medical care and a…home of one’s own…if I should sicken or--”

Her hands gripped his and squeezed them, as tightly as she could, so tight her nails dug into the pads of his palms. He raised his eyes to hers in surprise.

“By my side,” she said firmly. “For always. I shall _never_ forgive you if you leave me. No matter the circumstances…” she drifted off, unable to continue, or even to see him through the sudden blurring of her vision.

His lips claimed hers in a searing kiss.

She was on fire. Truly, completely aflame. There was nothing gentle about his kiss. It was hot and possessive, hungry and urgent. Devouring her mouth beneath his. It was indecent. Scandalous. And so, so good.

“God in heaven, Victoria,” he whispered hoarsely as he cradled her face between his hands, “Do you think I would ever willingly leave you? For any reason? Do you not know the hell I am in, every time I even imagine another man holding you this way?” He kissed her neck hard. “Kissing you?” He growled close to her ear. “Making love to you the way I have dreamed of doing for so long?” He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, nuzzled her, seized her earlobe between his teeth. “Do you not know the agony I am in, knowing I cannot have you, not really, not ever? To know that even if we marry, I cannot be the husband to you that you deserve?” He held her face immobilized between his two large, warm hands. She gazed, breathless, into the storm of his eyes. “I am so much older…I shall not live as long as you. I shall be forced to leave you on the day I leave this Earth behind, and another will take my place, sooner or later. In your bed. In your heart. It fills me with a rage I cannot even begin to describe--”

“ _No_!” She cried, suddenly furious, covering his hands with her own, her heart twisting in anguish at his words. “There shall never be another! Do you hear me? Do _not_ say such things! I cannot _bear_ it!” She tried to turn away from him, but he held her firm in his gentle hands.

“I must say it! And you must hear—!” His eyes were full of tears.

“NO!” She pulled his face down to hers and ground her mouth ferociously against his, kissing him with all the raw force of her fear and denial until she felt him melt into her, and he returned her kiss with a moan that shivered through her body. “I shall NOT hear,” she whispered angrily against his the corner of his mouth, “And you will NOT speak such vile words to me again!”

His breathing was ragged, his eyes dark in the firelight as he gazed at her with something like awe.

“I cannot bear it,” she whispered against his cheek, covering his beautiful face with long overdue kisses. “I cannot bear it!! Do not force me to hear what I cannot bear to contemplate again! I need you by my side…My dearest, dearest William…I need you so much it hurts! I cannot bear to think of life without you! Never mention it again!”

A sound of need so visceral it almost buckled her knees erupted from him as his lips claimed hers again and he kissed her, hard and deep, so unlike her always composed, always controlled Lord M that she was startled despite herself.

 _Oh yes,_ she thought. _Oh yes. This. This is what I need._

His arms circled her, crushed her hard against his body. She shuddered with the contact, moaning as he plundered her mouth.

“You are mine,” he rasped against the skin of her throat. “Do you know that is how I think of you? My Victoria. My Queen…for now, and always…”

She melted in his arms with a whimper, his voice rolling through her, setting off shock waves. His face was smooth tonight after his shave. Such a different feeling than this morning, but still so glorious. His soft lips pressed against her throat. His tongue, warm and wet, tasted her skin. She thrust her hands into the heaven of his curls, winding and twisting them around her fingers as he moved down the column of her neck.

“Tonight I want to make you mine. In every way. Will you permit it, My Queen? Will you allow your Prime Minister to behave _so badly_ with you? To worship you and violate you, to…invade you so thoroughly?”

His voice was a harsh whisper, throaty and guttural, sliding over her so rough and so sweet, stoking the fire inside of her to fever pitch. Was this the same man she’d chased around the room last night? How could it be? She could feel the wildness in him. His restraint had snapped, and he was the man she had always sensed underneath the calm, urbane exterior.

Everything in her responded to him.

“Yes!” she managed in a voice she didn’t recognize. “Ohhh please yes!”

He purred against her lips, his hands loosening the pins in her hair, freeing it, winding his hands in it tightly as he ground his mouth against hers.

Abruptly he pulled away, drawing a ragged breath. “I want to rip this gown from your body. I want to see you naked, Victoria. Now.” His hands left her hair and touched her face. He was trembling. It set her blood racing even more.

She backed away from him a little and gave him her back. It took a long time, because Elizabethan gowns are so much more complicated then her own century’s, with far more individual pieces, and because neither of them was entirely familiar with them all. And despite his declaration, he was being very careful not to destroy the garment that had been so dearly bought earlier today. But eventually they’d peeled away everything but her shift. She stepped out of the puddle of clothing around her ankles and turned to face him again. Holding his eyes with hers and trembling all over, she pushed the garment down over her shoulders and shimmied a little, until it fell from her body and she stood before him as naked as she was born.

His eyes roamed over her intently as she stood holding her breath, afraid to breathe, afraid to even wonder what he was thinking. She had stripped herself bare before her Prime Minister! Before her beloved Lord M. She pushed the panicked thought from her mind and closed her eyes, trying not to think of her physical flaws. Would he think her too thin? Too small chested? Too small in stature? Too narrow through the hips? Not a narrow enough waist?

Would he reject her?

Her eyes opened as he exhaled a ragged breath. She swallowed hard. He looked very much affected. But what did that mean? Did she meet his expectations or disappoint him?

He moved toward her, placing his hand against her cheek. He was so warm. She shivered at his touch.

“God in heaven. You are the most amazing woman I have ever known.”

“That is all you can say?” She said, feeling slighted. “Why ‘amazing’?”

“I said I wanted to see you naked, and less than ten minutes later you are standing before me, presenting yourself to me, bare as an egg.” His chest was heaving as his hand brushed lightly over the curve of her shoulder, his eyes following.

“Did you not mean it?” Victoria’s face was flaming. “For God’s sake, say something better than that, Lord Melbourne, or so help me I shall slap you for your impudence!”

_Did she just say that?_

His gaze flew to hers as his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He smiled and came closer. “Slap me, Your Majesty. Slap me hard as you can. God knows I deserve no less for gazing on you so villainously. And for entertaining such lewd thoughts. In all my wildest dreams, I never imagined you would give me such a gift.” His fingertips trailed down below her collarbone, his eyes on her breasts as he swallowed.

Her hand pulsed with the sudden urge to do just as he’d suggested. Why would he not say if he liked her body or not? Was he avoiding saying anything because he found fault with her and did not want to voice it? She could not bear it if it were so!

“God help me, but you are so lovely,” he said hoarsely, “Victoria, I am undone. I want you like I have never wanted anything or anyone in the whole of my life.” His mouth landed hot on hers and her anger dissolved. “So lovely,” he groaned against her lips, “I think you will kill me with your beauty. I am too old to withstand such a marvelous gift as you.”

“Say that again and I really shall slap you,” she hissed as his lips kissed a hot trail down her neck. “You are not too old!”

“No indeed,” he purred as he reached her collarbone. “I take it back. I’m feeling younger by the moment.” His hands slid over her body and everywhere he touched her, her skin tingled and the fire inside of her grew hotter and brighter. When his hand reached around and cupped her breast, she forgave him.

Everything.

Especially when his lips landed on the other one.

“Ohhh…” nothing had ever felt so good! Her knees wobbled beneath her as he lavished his attention on them both, back and forth, and she grabbed two fistfuls of his hair to stabilize herself.

“So perfect…you are so perfect in every way!”

If his kisses had felt good on her mouth and her face and her throat, it was nothing to how they felt there! And when his tongue fluttered across them she cried out.

“This night is yours,” he whispered, returning to kiss her lips again. “What do you want, Victoria? How can your lover pleasure you?”

Feebly she tugged at his shirt. She wanted him naked too. He purred against her and backing away, gave her a rakish smile that turned her insides to jelly. Still holding her gaze, he pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the floor. Taking her hands in his, he placed them on his bare chest.

Victoria’s eyes fluttered closed. He was a vision. Beautiful and strong, and overwhelmingly male. She ran her hands over his torso, loving how his soft, springy hairs felt under her fingers, how hot his skin was, the solid wall of his muscular body. She leaned in and kissed him at eye level, right over his heart. And then, out of curiosity and a desire to please herself, she licked him, loving the salty taste of his skin.

The sound he made was most encouraging.

She contemplated his male breast with interest. Would it feel good to him like it did to her if she just…?

She leaned in and licked him there too.

He reached down and pulled her lips up to his, kissing her almost violently, pressing her tight against himself. Victoria sighed at the contact. Her skin against his!

He ran his hands down over her bottom, cupping it and squeezing, lifting and separating, sliding his hands down to her thighs and suddenly, she was lifted off the floor, her legs spread wide around him. Instinctively she wrapped them around his waist and her arms around his neck as he carried her across the room, kissing her softly as he deposited her gently on the bed.


	10. Chapter 10--Hold On to the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens in Tudor England...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Well I think that I've been true to everybody else but me  
> And the way I feel about you makes my heart long to be free  
> Every time I look into your eyes, I'm helplessly aware  
> That the someone I've been searching for is right there…
> 
> Hold on to the nights  
> Hold on to the memories  
> I wish that I could give you something more  
> That I could be yours…”  
> (”Hold On to the Night”, Richard Marx, 1988)

Chapter 10—Hold On to the Night

 

 

This was what she had been waiting for.

After setting her down, he stripped off what remained of his clothes, and soon he was gloriously naked.

There was no other word to describe him.

“And do I please you, Ma’am, even a little bit?” He asked, standing before her, eyes alight with humor and desire as he studied her reaction.

She nodded, too overcome to speak. She wanted to touch him everywhere. To explore him with fingers and with lips and kisses. She could never have imagined a man as majestic as he was. So much power in his body…so much strength had been concealed by the drape and cut of his elegant clothing.

“If I had known you looked like this under your beautiful tailoring, I could never have mustered the courage to speak to you even once,” she finally managed to choke out.

“Do I frighten you?” He whispered, concerned.

“No,” she knelt on the bed, touched him lightly, fingers stroking over his shoulder. “I am awestruck.”

“As am I,” he whispered.

He came to her reverently, cupping her face in his hands as he kissed her, giving her his tongue. Victoria wound her hands in his hair and twirled his curls happily through her fingers as she returned his kiss with all she had. He crawled onto the bed with her and lay her back gently on the pillows, his mouth traveling hotly down her body. She cried out at the contact of his hot mouth against her cool breasts, as he showered first one and then the other with affection from his beautiful kisses, kneading them gently with his palms, nipping and sucking and licking until Victoria no longer had any awareness of the sounds coming out of her mouth, or indeed the ability to have coherent thought. The place between her legs where he had touched her this morning throbbed and ached for him to touch her there again.

Then, as if reading her mind, his mouth returned to hers as he slid one large warm hand slowly down her body while she writhed beneath him, finding that place again with his long, dexterous fingers.

She screamed against his mouth, pulling him closer to her, wanting, needing to feel all of his hard male body pressed against her. He sighed against her lips, nuzzling her gently. “Patience, My Love. We have all night to love one another. This is just the beginning of what I will make you feel.”

His hand against her body was creating such wild pleasure she thought surely her heart would burst. She lost track of his movements, feeling only the intense wave he was building and building inside of her.

“Oh God,” she cried out, her hips taking on a life of their own and moving against him. “Lord M! Oh William!” Her mind had crystallized into just one constant thought— _more. More more more more more more MORE!_

“Yeeesss,” he purred against her cheek, making her moan again, “Let it come, my beautiful Queen. Taste the sweetness I can give you…let it grow and burst inside of you. There is no one here but us. Let me feel and hear what I do to you.”

His words caressed her ear, swelled inside of her, added to the frenzied swirl of sensation pulsing through her body. She was inarticulate, past all thought into something elemental, simplified into pure feeling. Pure, glorious feeling. She was helpless in his hands to stop it, to control what he made her feel. Even if she wanted to.

“Yesss…take your pleasure from me, Victoria. Have no fear. There is so much more to come.”

His deft fingers. His hot, naked body. His soft warm lips. His breath tickling her skin. His eyes, large and deep and so dark green, soft with love and glazed with desire.

He was too much! Too much!

“God you are so lovely like this…so uninhibited…so free…here we are free together, you and I. I have dreamed of you like this so long…fly for me, my Lovely One! Don’t ever be afraid to fly for me…”

She exploded, her vision going white behind her eyes as ecstasy took her. Her head hit the pillow behind her as she screamed and writhed beneath him. She loved him! God, how she loved this man! The force of it rocked through her body in wave after wave of pleasure. It was beautiful. So beautiful! Who knew life could ever be soooo beautiful!!

Distantly she heard him groan aloud she felt his lips brush her knee. It sent more shocks of pleasure through her…oh, it was happening again!

There was only the two of them, floating, disembodied, in the night sky. The only two people in all of creation. A thousand sparkling crystal stars, falling all around them.

Victoria drifted gently back to reality as his fingers slowly stilled and his hand cupped her warmly. She felt weak as a kitten all over, shuddering and gasping as her eyes opened.

He was there, her big, beautiful William, filling her vision with his beloved face. His smile was killer, but his eyes so gentle as he gazed at her.

“Did it feel good?” He asked, smile widening.

She nodded, unable to speak and he laughed softly as he leaned in and kissed her deeply. The rapturous taste of his mouth, the soft velvety touch of his tongue against hers made her whimper. Every part of her seemed so alive, so sensitive to his every movement.

His arms wrapped warmly around her and pulled her off the bed, holding her close to his body and kissing her as little aftershocks rolled through her.

She laid her head against his chest, utterly spent and utterly shocked by the intensity of what he did to her.

“How many was that?” He whispered against her ear, amusement clearly in his voice. “I lost count.”

“I don’t know,” she half wailed against him, shaking all over. “It happened at least twice, I think. It almost went away and then you kissed my knee and it happened again.”

He chuckled softly. “Mmm, really? That’s interesting.”

“What is?”

“Everything. Everything about what I make you feel is interesting. It will help me please you even more next time.”

“I love it when you talk to me.”

He chuckled again. “Do you?” He smoothed his hand through her hair. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You’re teasing me now. That’s not fair.”

“I am not teasing you. I am gloating. There is a very big difference.”

“Gloating?” she flopped her head around to look at him. “Why gloating?”

“Well, when a man brings his lover to such extreme orgasm merely with his fingers, it can’t help but flatter a man’s ego. Right now, my ego is very flattered, and you know how much I like that. I feel like strutting around the barnyard and crowing at the dawn. Proud as any rooster at the response of my little hen.”

She snorted with laughter. “What an image you would make, Lord M! Please resist the temptation.”

He chuckled. “Even your words are slurred. God woman, you are so delicious. Mmmm, what will happen I wonder, when you get all of me?” He whispered into her ear.

A shudder went through her. “Perhaps I will blink out of existence entirely.”

“I hope not. Then I shall be very cross with you indeed for leaving me.”

“I don’t want you to be cross with me.”

“Good. Then kindly don’t blink out of existence,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose. “It is a very good thing we listed ourselves as married downstairs, or else we would cause no end of scandal.”

“Was I very loud?”

He chuckled. “I think the whole inn knows exactly what we’re up to up here.”

She groaned and turned her face into his chest.

“Don’t you dare be ashamed,” he whispered. “Ever. Of your reaction to me. I meant what I said…here like this, we are free. I want you to be nothing less. Scream the house down, Victoria. You don’t know how much pleasure it gives me to set you free.”

She whimpered in reply and wrapped herself more closely into his arms, wishing she could somehow crawl inside of his chest and curl herself around his heart. She kissed his chest where she lay, caressed his body everywhere she could reach. Her body, her mind, her heart and soul on fire for this most beautiful man. She could not get enough of him under her hands, on her lips.

She heard him chuckle softly before kissing her hair. But there was a quality to his laugh that set her blood racing again. He reached down and cupped the back of her head, pulling her face to his. His kiss was so urgent it sent a jolt of pure fire straight through her body, lighting up that place he had just stroked so skillfully. She wanted something different now. She wanted him.

“Please…” She moaned, writhing in his arms.

“Please what, My Love?” His eyes were so dark they were nearly black as he regarded her. “What service would you have of me, My Queen?”

“I would have you inside of me. Now. Please!” she whispered.

He made a noise like a growl, lowering her back to the bed, himself hovering over her.

Now. Right now. She wanted to feel him inside and out, to feel his body touch all along the length of hers, to be pressed hard against him as he moved inside of her. To wrap herself around him….To lose herself in him, in their joining, to not know where he began and she ended. To be well and truly one with the man she loved more dearly than life itself. Her breath was coming in short gasps. She could see in his eyes that the moment had finally come.

“It will hurt a little at first,” he whispered softly against her cheek, his warm breath caressing her skin. “I will be as gentle as possible, Victoria.”

“Do it,” she whimpered. “I don’t care about pain. Make it hurt like the devil himself. So long as I can feel you deep inside of me! I need you so. I feel so empty, so cold without you.”

He let out a shuddering breath, caressed her cheek with the back of his hand as something hot and wet fell on her face.

“No woman has ever said such a thing to me before,” he said in a quiet voice she could barely hear. “You truly want me so badly?”

“Yessss…,” she wailed. “I want you, William. My Lord M,” She reached out and touched his face with her fingertips. “I want you deep in my body, like you are in my heart. Make love to me, William. Take what has always been yours. What will never belong to any one else.”

He blinked hard but the tears still welled in his eyes.

She felt her own tears start as she reached up and tenderly kissed his away. She whispered words of love in his ear, reassuring him, pouring on the kisses, wishing she could take away all of the pain of his past, willing him to feel only her love. Until his big hands again slid down her body and grasped her thighs, opening them wide as he positioned himself against her.

Victoria gasped to feel him there, hard and huge and ready. Her breath came in little gasps as he reached up with one hand to brush his thumb across her cheek, and with the other cupped on one side of her bottom, pulling her gently toward him.

He gazed into her eyes for a moment more, thumb so soft against her cheek. “You are sure?” he whispered.

“Yes. Please!”

His eyes closed. He shuddered, then entered her.

There was a moment of pressure and then a tearing pain, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. Then he was there—inside of her. At last!

He shuddered again and let out a moan, but remained still, still stroking his thumb along her cheek, watching for her reaction.

“Did I…hurt you too much?”

“No…” She whispered, instinctively raising her hips toward him. “More,” she whispered. “I want all of you…William…please!”

With a deep growl, he thrust forward little by little, slowly allowing her to adjust to him, and then with a final push he was all the way inside of her.

They were still for one golden moment, caught in each other’s eyes, breathless.

“Hello,” he whispered, smoothing the hair back from her face.

“Hello,” she smiled. Victoria touched his face, kissed his lips, his eyes, nuzzled him happily.

His eyes were full of love as he nuzzled her cheek. “Victoria…” he kissed her deeply. “Ohhh my Victoria!” He cradled her face and moved deep inside of her, his eyes closing in rapture.

At first it did hurt a little, but pain soon gave way to pleasure as he moved gently. Her eyes closed too, as again her focus narrowed to only him. She was unaware of what came out of her mouth. Delirious with feeling. Her body a riot of sensation, her focus shrinking to him, and only him. Sliding over her. Inside of her. His beautiful face. His eyes glazed with pleasure. She was bringing him pleasure this time! Oh the thought made her…made her…

It was delicious. Sinful. So beautiful to watch him. He was lost in what she was making him feel this time. And she had never loved him so much as she did at that moment. Loved his unfocused gaze, the wild, animalistic sounds he made, the muscles of his arms bunching as he supported himself, the sweat of his body, the perfect pleasure of him filling her so completely.

She traced his arms lightly with her fingers, his shoulders, his chest. She looked down their bodies to where they were joined, watching him thrust inside of her. She dropped her head back against the pillows as his movements became stronger and harder. Deeper. Her hips rocked up to meet his thrust for thrust.

Ohhhh yes!

She wanted more. So. Much.

More.

Of.

HIM!

Images and memories of him filled her mind, swirling and eddying like leaves on an autumn wind. Her beautiful Lord M, slinging his leg over his horse’s head and sliding off in the most graceful dismount she’d ever seen. Sprinting up the steps at Kensington on the day they first met, so handsome in his top hat and blue coat. Lord M smiling at her during her coronation when no one else was looking. His strong arms around her, dancing at the coronation ball, so graceful and easy. His eyes devouring her later in the hall in an expression she could only vaguely sense as desire. His adorable disarray at Dover House. And a thousand and one other moments they had shared together—soft moments, light touches, deep and heavy with meaning.

His movements were harder now. Sharper. More erratic. He was breathing so heavy. Lost. He was lost in her!

She moaned and raised herself to him, kissing his chest, wanting any part of him near her mouth as he moved over her. He seemed to sense what she needed, even in the midst of his own pleasure, and bent his head to hers, giving her his lips, his tongue. Oh yes, that was so much better!

More images. Snatches of them.

His easy smile. The soft, slightly rough tones of his voice. The gold green of his eyes…

He was always there, always by her side, lifting her up, encouraging her, fighting for her, advising but never pushing. Kind and wise, intelligent and witty, sophisticated and urbane. Handsome and manly. And strong.

Appearing out of the swirling fog, slaying her enemies with his sword, eyes ferocious and hard…

Her Protector.

And now, finally, her lover!

With him at her side, she was invincible! No matter what century she was in. She could face anything. Anyone. He was her courage and her strength. Her rock. Her everything!

She devoured his mouth now, wanting, needing him to know how he made her feel. How she loved him so very much.

Oh God, yes!

…The feel of him in her hands…in her body…his words of love as his fingers moved against her…his kisses…any and everywhere! His mouth on hers…

He was finally hers! All hers! No one else’s! And she would belong to

No.

Other.

Man!

“William!”

A cry ripped from his throat, louder than any sound she’d ever heard him make. It rolled through her like thunder and her body convulsed, seized up around him. He threw his head back and roared, taking her along with him over the edge until they were plunged, headlong, into a beautiful, brilliant, night sky overflowing with stars.

 

*       *       *

 

“Are you all right?” she asked in a tone of concern, as he came crashing back down to the bed to one side of her, rolling her over onto her side with him, concern etched in her ocean blue eyes.

Oh God, was he ever! His whole body was singing with pleasure. Pulsing with joy. And satisfaction that was far deeper than physical, but included the physical as well. Health, vitality, life itself flowed back into his bloodstream. He was whole and a man again.

‘Are you all right?’ She had asked. As if there could be anything wrong.

Ever again.

“Perfectly,” he reassured her, the word slurring from his lips as he gathered her softness in his arms. “I am perfectly, perfectly fine, My Queen,” he whispered, kissing her brow gently, smoothing the worry from the top of her cute little nose. His hands could not get enough of her smooth, silky skin, of the dips and crests of her delicate curves. They roamed constantly over her body with the same greedy wonder he himself felt.

God in heaven, had he really just deflowered the Queen? He should be ashamed…horrified at his own behavior. What kind of reprehensible scoundrel would take advantage of her this way? Especially when he was a Prime Minister, for God’s sake, and her most trusted and loyal adviser, older and more avuncular than anything else…or should be. Especially when he lo…he cut the thought off. How could he claim to feel that way, and still do this? If he really did…love…her, he would have saved her honor at all costs to himself. It was so wrong of him to accept her…so wrong to reach out for her…he knew he should not and yet…he was so weak. Weak and venerable. Especially to her.

No. Only to her. There would never again be any other woman for him. It would be endlessly unfair to the poor lady in question. His heart, his whole self, was pledged to Victoria in unending devotion. It was anyway, from the first moments of their acquaintance. But after this night…well. They may never be able to marry in truth. But in his heart, he was more hers now than he could possible declare in a host of churches, before the eyes of the world. He’d never felt such before. Not even with Caro, God rest her poor soul.

He looked down at her. She was so lovely. So delicate. So unutterably beautiful. She was melted against him, boneless in repletion, drowsily running her fingers through his chest hair, her eyelids heavy, a small Mona Lisa smile on her gorgeous lips.

And he had made her thus.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. But most of all he wanted to scoop her up and kiss her senseless, to lose himself in the glory of her embrace, to silence the endless recriminations in his head by drowning himself in her, as if by doing so he could outrun himself and the constant nagging of his conscience, which was screaming into the wind that he had violated everything that was sacred in this act of pure selfishness, and most of all he had violated her, whom he purported to love.

But the most primitive part of himself had declared her to be his forever, long before it had ever been consummated. And that part of him was crowing now equally loudly, was beating his chest with the satisfaction of knowing he had pleased her so completely, that he had possessed her wholly and fully, and branded himself so deep within her that no other man could ever hope to lay claim to what was rightfully his. And found his own measure of heaven in so doing.

God he was fool. An old fool at that. Which was the worst sort. For he knew better, but acted against his better judgment anyway.

He just hoped that when the time came, he had manhood enough left to stand aside and make way for another. For such was inevitable, even if they both chose to ignore the fact for as long as possible.

He stroked her hair softly, memorizing every detail of her. Perhaps the memory of this night, of what they had shared, of the silky strands of her hair sliding between his fingers, and the beautiful sight of her bare curves in the firelight would comfort him in his loneliest nights, when she had, either by necessity or choice, moved on.

“And you?” he asked slowly. “Are you all right, Victoria? Was I too rough with you, there at the end? I tried to be gentle, but I fear the excitement you arouse in me took over.”

“I am…perfect too,” she drowsed, her eyes opening drunkenly as she bestowed a heart stopping, satisfied smile on him. “I never knew…I never knew it would feel so good. That I could be so happy. Oh William…” her lips landed on his chest, seared him through the heart. “My dearest William…what you make me feel! Could we…I mean…” she pressed her lips together in that way that drove him mad, “Do it again sometime?”

He pulled her up to himself and kissed her hungrily.

“Yes,” he whispered against her lips as he ravished them, “My beautiful, darling Queen, you have only to command me. And I, your humble servant, will perform any service you wish…”

“But I do not always wish to command you,” she whispered back, “I should like to know that sometime, you might…well…want me, too.”

He pulled back and laughed softly. “God you are so lovely,” he said, giving voice to his thoughts. “Do you not know by now how much I have always desired you? Every moment of every day. I shall always, until my dying breath. Do not ever think otherwise.”

She gazed into his eyes earnestly, and one delicate little hand fluttered against his cheek, making his heart melt in his chest. “Do not speak of your dying breath, Lord Melbourne. Have I not made it clear that such language displeases me most heartily? I should like for you to tell me sometime when you would wish to make love to me. I should like to please you too.”

“You do,” he cooed at her. “You do please me, Angel that you are. Angel to my devil…light to my dark…I never thought I’d be the man you’d honor this way,” he whispered, brushing the hair back from her face, hooking it behind her ear, marveling at the tears that sprang to her eyes. “You do not know how I spent the last few years hating the man you’d choose to take to your bed, to honor with the privilege of initiating you into the art of love. Envying him to his dying breath for touching one hair on your pretty head, much less anything else.”

“Who else could I have trusted myself too, my dearest Lord M, if not you?” She said, blue eyes wide and innocent still, as they gazed into his eyes.

Such trust. Such overwhelming faith in him. When she was wiser, would she someday be disappointed to find that the reality of the man she loved was so much different than her view of him? Would she see him for what he truly was—a rogue who’d taken advantage of a tender, girlish love for his own pleasure? The thought robbed him of breath. He would do anything to stay her hero. Anything to be worthy of her love and trust. He battled the tears rising to his eyes. He hoped someday, when she was wiser, that she could find enough good in her memories of him to recognize that he did truly love her, even if he was too weak to resist her.

“Any number of younger, more handsome men,” he said with a chuckle.

“Do you really think me so free with myself?” She said in an affronted tone. “And yourself so plain?”

“Definitely not the former. Young and handsome princes, then,” he said, smiling into her beautiful eyes. “And yes to the latter. I am but a poor, elderly Viscount, after all. And plain, certainly. If devoted.”

“You are not poor, or by any means plain, Lord M. And pray do not discount yourself so, it distresses me. Even if you are just teasing me.”

He shuddered as her lips touched his forehead, kissed sweetly his eyelids, his cheeks, even his nose before finding his lips again. It was as if she reached inside of him and kissed away all his reproaches, all his self-loathing. She was so much more than a woman. She was balm to his pain in a way no other woman ever had been. He banished all thoughts of having to give her up. He couldn’t stand the thought anymore. She was everything he’d ever dreamed of having in a woman, in a lover, in a wife. He could never let her go. She would have to be wrested from his resisting arms, and it would kill him. He had no doubt.

“And I have spent the last several months hating every woman who has ever shared your bed,” she returned, as she kissed him harder, tugging at his lips with hers, making him groan. “And now I hate them more than ever!” She whispered with passion, seizing his mouth in hers and kissing him with all the ferocity she could muster.

God how he loved this woman!

“You mean more to me than all the others combined,” he said at last, caressing her face softly. “Do not waste time and energy hating them, Victoria. The past has no more hold on me now. There is no room in my heart for any woman but you.” He swallowed hard. “I hope you never have cause to regret this night, and what we have shared.” He blinked hard to clear his vision. “I hope you never regret honoring me with being…your first,” he choked out. _And please, God, tell me I will be your last. Your only love!_

“I never shall,” she said with a steely resolve that comforted him. “No matter what shall ever befall us. There never has been anyone for me but you, my darling, my dearest…William. Was I…did I…please you tonight?”

She whispered the words as if afraid to utter them, as if afraid his answer would be no. As if it could ever be! God how she charmed him!

“Yes,” he said, almost chuckling. He recognized with some surprise that it hurt his face to smile. Had he really been so somber? “Ohh yes, you did.” His grin became wider. He could at least put her fears to rest, even if he could do nothing for his own. “I have never been so pleased,” he whispered, gazing deeply into her eyes. “No woman has ever brought me so hard to climax…or given me so much pleasure as you…Ma’am,” he added as a naughty touch, and kissed her again.

“Really?” she asked, eyes wide in surprise. “But I don’t even know what to do!”

“You don’t have to do anything,” he whispered, “it is not about what you do. It is about who you are, and how I feel about you, that brings me pleasure. As to the rest of it…well, those are things that you can learn still. And I will be honored to teach you.”

“You must,” she breathed in response, “Please teach me…everything. I want to know everything about how to please you.”

“That alone pleases me,” he purred, “your desire to do so. And that you want me to teach you…God in heaven, woman, we may never leave this bed.”

“Then let us not,” she said, her eyes glittering with desire and arousal. “Let us stay here and love each other.”

“But we must in the morning,” he whispered against her throat. “We cannot linger here or we will run out of money.”

“Then you can make love to me in the street for all I care,” she breathed. “All I want in the world is you inside of me. Nothing else matters.”

He growled against her. Damnation but she knew how to arouse him with words alone! All his misgivings melted away. Oh yes, he had awakened her. And she was his.

At least for the time being.

“Come here,” he whispered, lying down and pulling her over him. “Shall we begin your first lesson?”


	11. Chapter 11--Alive and Kicking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord M and Victoria take the irrevocable step of calling at Whitehall Palace, and get their first glimpse of the legendary Queen Elizabeth I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: This chapter originally was going to look quite different. But some last minute research revealed that I'd gone about it all wrong, so now the chapter more closely reflects the practices and rules of Elizabeth's Court. (At least I hope so!) It also has a little bit different narration style, as a result, in an effort to keep the plot moving and put the story back to where it needs to be after this adjustment. 
> 
> Note 2: Although it is not the author's intent to force reader's imagination of characters in one direction or another, in the writer's mind, this story features Cate Blanchett in the role of Queen Elizabeth I.
> 
> Note 3: And now back to our regularly scheduled thematically related song lyrics~~  
> “What you gonna do when things go wrong?  
> What you gonna do when it all cracks up?  
> What you gonna do when the Love burns down?  
> What you gonna do when the flames go up?  
> Who is gonna come and turn the tide?  
> What's it gonna take to make a dream survive?  
> Who's got the touch to calm the storm inside?  
> Who's gonna save you?”  
> (”Alive and Kicking”, Simple Minds, 1985).

Chapter 11—Alive and Kicking

 

The next day, they set off for the palace of Whitehall.

It was a beautiful, crisp afternoon, warm and breezy. The sky was perfect and blue, dotted here and there with white clouds as they made their way along the river Thames, traveling to the palace the way most people did, by ferry.

Their journey was almost silent. Both of them looked forward to their destination solemnly, neither of them wanting to go forward, both longing with everything they had to go back. But with every dip of the ferryman’s oars into the water, their unwelcome future hove closer and closer into view.

Originally, William had planned to make the transition to Whitehall in a few days, but he had waken up this morning, resolute. He had told her that he did not trust himself to delay the unpleasantness of Court any longer, for fear that if he spent another moment in her arms, he would no longer have the strength and courage to do what he knew to be the right thing for her, and they would spend all their remaining funds on inns where they could make love for as long as possible before being booted out into the street.

So, despite Victoria’s protests, once they had set foot out of doors this morning, they had become their new identities. Lord and Lady Palmerston had been left behind. They were now cousins. And the distance between them was killing Victoria.

She glanced at William out of the corner of her eyes. He returned her glance briefly, gave her his most encouraging smile, then looked ahead again. She swallowed hard. Her mind was filled to overflowing with everything they had experienced last night and this morning, with the wonder of what he could make her feel, with the intensity of what they had shared between them.

She was no longer a virgin. The thought kept echoing around inside of her. She didn’t know what to do with that. She had not anticipated that giving her virtue to her sweet, darling Lord M would bring her anything but joy. Joy she did feel on the one hand—the joy of discovering him, and the full extent of what a man and a woman shared between them that brought them such great pleasure. But because of their uncertain circumstances, it was tempered with fear, with insecurity and the need for his reassurances, and at its base, with regret.

She did not exactly regret that she had decided to give herself to him…rather, she regretted the method and the timing of the gift. How much better it would have been to have been safely his wife! To be able to reach for him here, to take his great hand in both of hers and to lean against the comfort of his strong arm as they traveled, and have no one question the propriety of it. To be able to stay together for several days afterward, to sequester themselves from the world as man and wife, on their honeymoon—to spend glorious hours learning and exploring and tasting and feeling all that it meant to be married, to be one with each other in every way.

To be able to look forward to conceiving a child together. A child that would never be threatened by illegitimacy, or overshadowed by scandal.

But they would have married, she told herself. They would have, if the world would just get out of their way and let them! And that thought made her angry…angry at them all. For trying to keep them apart. For making it so impossible for them both to be happy. For trying to force her to marry where she did not wish to, and forbidding her to marry where she did.

Damn them, she thought.

The word surprised her. Where had that come from? It was most un-queenlike. Most unladylike too.

It was so hard not to reach for him! So hard not to run for the shelter of his arms! She felt oddly cold and out of place, as if the world had shifted slightly since yesterday and she was no longer comfortable alone in her own skin, or content with merely standing on her own. She longed for the strength and warmth of his arms, of his kisses, to hear him whisper in her ear! It had only been the matter of an hour or perhaps two since they’d left the inn, and yet oh, how she hungered for him! For a single touch of him on her body somewhere, anywhere.

Then, as if he had read her mind, she felt the slightest brush of his hand against hers. She almost wept with relief.

 _I’m still here_ , his touch said. _Courage, My Love. We can do this._

While it was a far cry from an embrace, it was enough to help her steady her nerves. She felt her breathing slow.

He knew her so well. How did he know what she needed when she had not so much as even looked at him!

She took a deep breath, and focused her mind on what he had told her earlier.

Prior to their leaving for the palace, William had made a most important discovery.

The date was September 1, 1564.

“It should prove a most interesting time to visit Elizabeth’s court,” he had said to her upon his return, his eyes dancing with excitement. “The 1560’s was an era where many foreign princes still vied for Elizabeth’s hand. Elizabeth is now only thirty-one years old, and so her marriage is the hot topic of the day, as you may imagine. And if we are extremely lucky, maybe we’ll even get a look at Leicester.”

“Leicester?”

“Oh yes. Robert Dudley is his real name, but like most titled peers he’s known more by his title of Leicester,” he smiled wryly at her. “He was by all accounts, the Queen’s favorite suitor. Though he was deemed to be unworthy by most of her advisers, and a thorn in the side to her principal adviser, Sir William Cecil.”

She smiled back. So she and Elizabeth had something else in common, it would seem, other than being Queens. They both loved “unsuitable” men. She filed this information away for later. Perhaps it might be useful.

“But do you think he will be there, at Whitehall Palace?” She said. Curiosity stirred in her. She would like to see this favorite of the current Queen.

“He should be, but one never knows for sure. He was in and out of the queen’s favor so much, you see. But if my memory is right, according to the current date, his wife died about four years ago. I believe he was much in Elizabeth’s company after that. Chances are very good we might see him.”

“I should very much like to see them together.”

“So should I. After reading about them so much during my lifetime, it will be most interesting to see them both in person.”

“I must confess. Their dilemma seems somewhat…familiar, Cousin,” she said pointedly.

“The thought had occurred to me, as well…Cousin.” He winked at her. “Perhaps we will garner some sympathy after all.”

 _Cousin_. How she was beginning to hate that word!

“We cannot be seen to be overly affectionate with one another, you know,” he had said later, as they finished dressing. “We are no longer Viscount and Lady Palmerston. I am simply William Lamb, an untitled member of the lower gentry. And you are the Viscountess Alexandrina Zoransky of the Duchy of Prussia, from an impoverished but noble, Protestant family of that region, and a distant cousin of mine. Your husband is dead as the result of a hunting accident, your mother died in childbirth and your father predeceased your husband by one year. You were an only child. You were destitute at the passing of your husband, for whom you had a great affection, and upon being informed that his affairs were in ruin, you did not know where to turn, except to your father’s cousin in England, whom you met once or twice when I visited your family.

“Once you’d settled on this course of action, you sold what remained of your possessions in order to make the journey to England, where you would put your fate in my hands. Though you had written to me to inform me of your coming, my reply to you did not reach you before your departure, hence you did not know the state of my own affairs until you arrived. Once you were here, you were distressed to discover that my own fortunes had suffered a reversal, and I was also in desperate economic straits. I have recently sold my small estate for enough coin to live quietly for myself, but I had not counted on supporting a beautiful young relation, recently widowed. As I have no prospects whatsoever to enlarge my coffers, my one hope was to appeal to our great Queen for assistance on your behalf, as you are far too young and noble to resort to the sort of beggary that a life with me would condemn you to.”

“But…why have you cast yourself in such a poor light? If you present me to her like that she shall never permit me to marry you.”

“There is nothing else I can be. All the nobles in Britain she will know already, and we cannot both be foreign. Only a humble, untitled, unimportant and unremarkable country squire might be beneath her notice. And as we have previously discussed, I am also too high born and well educated to pass myself off as a commoner. Besides. If I’m allowed to stay on as your guardian, I might find a way to distinguish myself. Elizabeth is known to be generous with those who find her favor. Perhaps I can perform some small service to Her Majesty, enough to earn myself a new title and a small patch of land somewhere that we can call home.”

“But why elevate me so? It makes it harder for you to win me, Lord M.”

“You are a Queen, My Love. I have not elevated you, I’ve reduced you to the lowest circumstances that it is possible to conceive you in. As I have said before, you have a natural dignity about you that speaks of extremely high birth, if not of royalty. Any lower rank simply would not be believable. Moreover, you need someone to take care of you. With that title and your beauty it is not out of the realm of possibility you might marry very well, despite your poverty. It also might help protect you from propositions of a lesser sort.”

“Like what?”

“Like courtiers who might look on you favorably enough to warm their bed, but not of high enough rank to marry.”

“Oh,” she said simply.

“Elizabeth’s court is a hot bed of such things. You should be on your guard, and always remember you are no longer Queen. Men will not respect you as much as they do her, nor will they be as well behaved as you are accustomed to. You are beautiful to more men than just me, My Love. You must be very careful not to encourage any attention you do not wish to have.”

“There is only one man’s attentions I wish for, as well you know. And besides, you will be there with me. So I have nothing to fear, Lord M.”

“I know,” he had smiled tenderly, “But whatever happens, you must not call me that any longer,” he whispered. “I am simply Cousin William now. And you are Cousin Alexandrina. We must be clear on that point. Any slips will expose us, and could quite possibly cost us our necks.”

“I am well aware of it,” she said tersely. “However did you talk me into using Alexandrina, L—William? I hate it.”

“It is more foreign sounding than Victoria. It lends your story more verisimilitude.”

She had sullenly admitted this, and gone back to contemplating her reflection in the very small, dark hand mirror William had procured for her. She missed her full-length looking glass from home. However did women manage in this day? She wondered. She could only see about half of her face at a time. “There is some comfort to be had, I suppose, in the fact that I am very unfashionably dark, as well as poor. Don’t women of this era all dye their hair blond or red, as well as paint their faces? My hair is a determined shade of mousy brown, and I am averse to using paint of any sort. I have heard it can be most unhealthy. Perhaps if I remain as I am, I will not be thought a beauty here by anyone but you.”

“Trust me, My Love. You cannot help but be thought a beauty, anywhere. And against all those painted women at court?” He huffed out a laugh. “Your natural beauty will have men dropping like flies at your feet. I bet half the court will be besotted by you before our audience is even completed.”

His voice was sad. She went to him, overcome, and placed her hand against his cheek.

“You know you are the only man who could ever lay claim to my heart…as indeed you have to my body. I am yours, William. Should every man in Europe drop to my feet, I will still care for only you.”

He pulled her against him and kissed her, sweetly and passionately, but with restraint, and smiled into her eyes. “You are a wonder to me,” he whispered, caressing her face. “You may not be Queen of England in this time, but you will always be Queen of my heart.”

“I love you.” It flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. Her breath hitched once the words had left her, and she looked anxiously into his eyes for his response. Would he feel the same? He was not the sort of man to tell her a falsehood, just because she expected a reply. He would always be honest with her. And so she waited, her heart in her throat, as he processed her words.

He pulled her hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips tenderly, as she stood in an agony of apprehension. He gazed at her hand in his, stroked it softly, blinking at the tears in his eyes.

“You know I…never thought to hear those words pass from the lips of a woman to me ever again in this lifetime. Nor could I have said several months ago that I would even wish to hear them. I might have…scoffed at the notion. Dismissed it as…rubbish,” his voice broke on the word. “I never really knew how bitter and jaded I had become after Caro…until I met you.” He raised his eyes to hers. “You have taught me so much, Victoria. You have brought so much back into my life. Hope. Belief in the future. Happiness and joy…purpose and meaning…” he reached up to caress her cheek, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, “And love, “ he whispered the word as if afraid of it, then smiled at her with a shyness that melted her heart even as it gave it wings. “You have taught me how to love again. For love you I do, My Dearest, more than I could have ever dreamed was possible.” He stroked her lip with his thumb, eyes hooded with desire and pure feeling. “My love. My Victoria. My Queen. Forever.”

She had leaned up and kissed him then, her own eyes wet with tears…

She blinked hard now, the memory swelling in her heart, making her long to press her lips against his mouth, his hand, his arm, his…anything.

She licked her lips, pressed them firmly together and closed her eyes, relishing the memory if his skin against them for just one moment longer, then she forced the image away. If this was going to work, she had to be strong. She should not force him to carry the weight of this meeting alone, or witness her need for him always in her eyes. Nor could she afford to project the image of a frightened and vulnerable girl child, either. Elizabeth would not respect such things. She would admire strength and courage like her own. And Victoria knew how to do that. Inwardly, she recalled the feeling of her coronation robes being slipped on her shoulders, and slipped into her Queenly demeanor again the same way.

She felt her spine straighten, and opened her eyes to find William’s eyes on her, alight with approval and admiration. She smiled briefly at him and turned her face towards their destination.

“Its even grander than I expected,” she breathed, looking at the gleaming walls before them, growing ever larger as they drew closer.

Finally they had arrived.

 

* * *

 

They alighted, and William disembarked first, turning to hold his hand out for Victoria, as he had had the very great pleasure of doing so many times before. And even though their relationship had changed now irrevocably, he still felt the same thrill he always experienced when she placed her delicate hand in his and smiled up at him with such utter trust in the lovely blue depths of her eyes.

God in heaven, she was beautiful. Elegant and exquisitely dainty, yet so strong, as strong in her own way as the Queen they had come to see. William’s heart swelled with pride and with love as he allowed his eyes to rest on her, unable to let go of the memory of her gloriously naked body, bathed in firelight and later in the light of the dawn, pressed against his, lost in the pleasure of lovemaking for the first time—finding her climax, her repletion in his arms…

If he lived to be a thousand years old, he’d never forget one moment of that most beautiful of all nights.

How was it that she could love him? There had been a time when he had prayed that she would wake from her romantic reverie and see him as he truly was, but it had been some time now that his prayer had become the reverse. He was old enough to know better, and yet he’d not been able to stop himself from falling headlong for a woman he could no more keep than he could sprout wings and fly to the moon. He had been head over heels for her since almost their first meeting. And God forgive him, no matter what befell them both now, he’d never regret any of it.

They had alighted into a small receiving area. He paid the ferryman, who departed with a doff of his slouch hat, and William Lamb turned his face toward the gleaming white door at the other side of the walled in courtyard. Two guardsmen stood to either side at perfect attention, not speaking. Otherwise there was no one about.

It was a pleasant area they had landed into, adorned with heavily flowering shrubs and a few small trees. There were stone benches set around, and to one side a stone sundial set among roses. This clearly was a place where one could expect to spend some time…waiting.

“Well, shall we?” said Victoria, indicating the door.

“I rather suspect we are supposed to wait for an invitation…Cousin.”

“For how long?” She turned her eyes, large with surprise, to William.

“For the Queen’s pleasure, I should expect,” he raised a brow at her in irony.

The expression, as always was between them, was not lost on her.

William, in resignation, led her to a stone bench currently shaded by the boughs of an obliging tree, and whispered quietly into her ear.

“You must accustom yourself to these things with a good grace, My Love. Elizabeth is infamous for such.” More loudly he said, “Never mind, Cousin. We are here. We shall be ushered inside I’ve no doubt when the appointed time arrives.”

He settled himself next to her on the bench, taking advantage of the short length of the bench to casually allow his thigh to rest heavily against her skirts, seeking contact with her leg underneath. He told himself it was to comfort her, but in truth, it was just as essential for him. 

He needed her badly. They had not yet had enough time to explore each other fully, and they were both yet too ravenous to be content in each other’s company without the constant, aching need to touch and be touched. He placed his hands deliberately on his own knees to keep him reaching for her.

Next to him on the bench, he heard the ragged edge of her exhale, and felt the tremor go through her at the contact.

Bloody hell, how in the devil were they to manage this? Even with his considerable experience in such matters, his physical reaction to Victoria and hers to him was something unique in his experience. If things were this difficult for him, how must they be for her?

He risked a glance in her direction and quickly realized he shouldn’t have. Oh yes, she was feeling it too.

His poor, beautiful love. Had he been more patient…had he been more considerate, he would not have allowed himself to take her last night. Well. He’d like to think he wouldn’t have. And she would not now be sitting beside him, burning like a small sun for want of his touch. But it was done now, he reflected, stroking one eyebrow with a finger thoughtfully. There was no undoing it.

As if he would ever wish it undone.

He deliberately slammed the door on his thoughts of how luscious she was. This was not the time and place for such reflections. Tonight perhaps, if he could get her quite alone and to himself again, he would. Oh he would definitely think about it then. In great detail, as he prepared for an encore performance that would leave her breathless…

At length, the door opened, and a steward appeared, lavishly dressed in a suit of red slashed with gold and black. William and Victoria rose, and met him halfway through the garden.

“Greetings, in the name of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth Gloriana of England,” said the steward bowing low. “What business brings you hence to the palace?”

William introduced them both, and stated their mission briefly. The steward nodded gravely, his eyes roving far too appreciatively over Victoria for William’s taste.

He groaned inwardly. For the first time since he’d known her, he found himself damning her beauty. They hadn’t even entered the palace yet and already she was drawing too much male attention. He schooled his features. As her Cousin, he must not glare at every man who glanced at her. Especially not the man with the key to the castle.

“I bid you welcome, Sir, and you as well, My Lady. If you would care to follow me to the Presence Chamber, you are cordially invited to wait upon Her Majesty’s pleasure there.”

They followed him down a long stone pathway lined with beautiful sculptures, paintings and artworks gilded with gold and silver, which presently opened up into a large stone hall, crowded with courtiers milling about, and speaking in excited tones.

“You may wait here. Daily Court begins at about ten in the morning, but that of course, is up to Her Majesty. Once Her Majesty has noticed you, you may present your petition.”

“Once she has noticed us? Do you mean I must wait here until that happens?”

“Aye, that’s the way it works.”

“And if she does not notice me at all? What then?”

“Then you may return tomorrow, and hope for better luck.” The steward nodded. “In the meantime, Her Majesty does provide refreshments, through that door there, along with the necessaries, if needed," he indicated a door at the far end of the chamber. “That’s as far as you’re permitted to go, Sir. No one from the public may venture further into the palace unless the Queen has given her express permission for you to do so. To do so without consent is to commit an act of treason.”

“I thank you for the information. You have been most helpful.”

“Good day to ye,” the steward took his leave but not without looking Victoria up and down again before he left.

_Bloody, ballocking hell!_

“Cousin,” Victoria came to him, worry etched on her face. “What is it?”

“Come with me,” he said, glancing around them and leading her away to a relatively dark and secluded corner. Once there, he dragged a hand down his face.

“What have you discovered?”

“That I am a thousand kinds of fool,” he said with a sigh. He relayed to her what the steward had told him.

“We may have to get another room tonight,” she mused, not looking altogether displeased.

“And we have no way of knowing if she will notice us tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or after that. To say nothing of needing more clothes. Bloody hell!"  He dropped his head.  "I am sorry, Drina.  I should have seen this coming.  I should have known as much.  Did I not say she was famous for making people wait?"

“Dearest William, do not distress yourself! I am sure it cannot be as bad as you foresee.”

“If that happens, Cousin, we are ruined.  I do not have enough money to wait endlessly like this.”

“Nonsense, if it happens, we just will have to find another way, that’s all.  All is not lost, pray do not give up hope.  We shall begin by making ourselves impossible to ignore today.”

“Yes well, it might be beneficial if we split up. Cover more ground more quickly.” But one glance at the hurt and frightened look on her face when he suggested this put an end to that thought. He smiled into her eyes. God how he loved her. He lowered his eyes and coughed, giving himself a few moments to clear his mind of how badly he wanted to back her up against the wall and kiss her senseless.  Among other things. “Or perhaps we should stay together, and present a united front.” He raised his eyes just enough to catch the warmth in hers before he dropped his gaze again. He curled his hands into fists to keep himself from reaching for her.

They milled about the room together. Victoria was amazing, he thought, watching her. She spoke in German, peppered with bits of French and English.  Her carriage was so regal and her poise so perfect that anyone who didn't know better would think she was the Queen here.  He huffed out a laugh. And a damned beautiful one at that.

They had been milling and talking for about half an hour before a trumpet flourish interrupted their latest conversation—The Queen had come at last.

 

* * *

 

Victoria swallowed hard, her heart thumping as her greatest role model approached, hardly believing that she was really here to see her alive and in person.

The crowd parted and rolled back down the center of the room, and bowed before the slow procession as they made their way down the long red carpet leading from the back of the hall to the throne at the other side. Somehow, Victoria and William had ended up on the front row of courtiers, and so Victoria had a uninhibited view, albeit of the floor, as the procession glided past.

Radiant as a thousand suns, Queen Elizabeth I led the party of fifty or so courtiers in a gown of gold and orange silk covered over with embroidery, lace and jewels, her neck framed by a magnificent gossamer ruff. She passed quite close to Victoria, almost brushing past her with her wide skirts.

It was really her! And she was as magnificent as Victoria knew she would be.

Elizabeth seated herself on her throne at the top of a dais, and everyone in the room straightened again. She was dripping with jewels and gemstones around her neck, in her hair and all over her gown. They winked and flashed artistically in the light from an overhead stained glass window. Her hair was curly, elaborately fashioned, and brilliantly red around a white, white face. Bright eyes, sharp with intelligence under an invisible brow, and a full red mouth set in a firm line completed the picture.

“Loyal subjects of the realm, and friends of England. We bid you welcome to our Presence Chamber, to Whitehall Palace, and to Court!” The Queen’s voice was low in pitch and evenly measured. It was quietly regal, the kind of voice that carried in its dulcet tones the unmistakable ring of authority.

Victoria was envious. Why could she not sound so dignified when she spoke?

“Today, we shall hear petitions from several of our realm. Sir William—call forth the first name.”

 

* * *

 

By the time they left the Presence Chamber, it had been a long and difficult day. Her Majesty had indeed heard several petitions, all from a list read by Sir William Cecil. By the time she dismissed the public from the palace with a waive of her hand, there had been no opportunity to catch her eye.

But as they were ushered from the throne room, Victoria observed a solitary pair of very bright eyes in an achingly handsome face follow her out the door.

 

* * *

 

William paid the ferryman for the return trip and again inquired at the same inn about a room. It was dangerous, he knew, for them now to be found together after putting in even such an inauspicious appearance at the palace as they had today, but the dictates of his dwindling purse necessitated that they spend as little as possible on the night’s accommodations.

As he ordered supper and retired with Victoria upstairs, he debated the pros and cons of returning to Whitehall in the morning, versus setting about finding some more permanent—and cheaper—lodgings for them both.

Once safely inside their own room behind a bolted door, Victoria was again in his arms and he was kissing her with all the ravenous deprivation their disappointing day had brought on them.  As he lay her back on their bed again, finally setting himself to the task he'd been anticipating all day, he began to think that perhaps the life of a common man wasn't without its compensations after all.

 

* * *

 

The next morning they were awakened by a pounding on the door. 

"What is it?" Victoria asked drowsily from the bed as William sat in a nearby chair and opened a letter sealed with red wax. 

"You'll need to get dressed soon, My Love.  We've been summoned to the palace.  The Queen will hear our petition today."  His eyes met hers.  "Someone has apparently championed our cause."

 


	12. Chapter 12--Love Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord M and Victoria return to the palace of Whitehall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I don't wanna touch you too much baby  
> 'Cos making love to you might drive me crazy…
> 
> Love bites, love bleeds  
> It's bringin' me to my knees  
> Love lives, love dies  
> It's no surprise  
> Love begs, love pleads  
> It's what I need…. 
> 
> If you've got love in your sights  
> Watch out, love bites…”  
> (Def Leppard, 1988)

Chapter 12—Love Bites

 

The second trip down the Thames was, in some ways, more tense than the first. Although he tried to project a sense of calm for her benefit, Victoria could feel the nervous tension radiating off of William. Her lips still throbbed from the attention they had received prior to leaving their room this morning. They had been dressed and ready to go, when suddenly Victoria found herself trapped between an unyielding wall and an equally hard and unyielding man, his mouth ravenous and demanding against hers, but also with a tinge of desperation that surprised her. She kissed him back with everything she had, reassuring, pouring herself into the kiss, infusing it with all the love in her heart.

 _I am yours_ , her kiss said, _I always will be. Today will make no difference._

“If I had an ounce of good sense, I’d run away with you to France right now,” he breathed, voice roughened by desire. “And damnation and hell to Elizabeth, her court and England.”

“They cannot take me from you,” she whispered, her hands pressed against his beautiful face, touching her forehead to his.

“Do not underestimate them. They will try.” His voice hitched. “I cannot lose you, Victoria. Not now. Oh my love—my beautiful girl—I cannot bear the thought of another man touching you. God forgive me.”

The expression in his eyes was so open and so naked that Victoria gasped. She kissed him again, winding her hands in his hair, wishing she could just pull him back into bed and keep him there with her, forever. “I cannot bear it either,” she said, caressing his face, his lips with her fingers. “We must not let it happen.”

“Do you not see we may have no choice!” He kissed her roughly again, and his need for her fired her blood.

“We always have a choice,” she breathed as his lips traveled down her throat.

He growled against her skin. “Its just as well we have to go. I fear if I could have you now, I’d be far too violent.”

Her eyes shuttered and she let out a sigh. _Yes, please!_

“Victoria,” he purred against her throat, “You weren’t supposed to like that comment,” his laugh was a warm puff of air against her throat. “Bloody hell, woman, you’re not helping!”

She smiled at him, happy to see the humor return to his eyes. “For shame, Lord M! To make such a tantalizing promise when you cannot act upon it for the next several hours. You tease me unmercifully! Now I shall be tortured all day by the delicious prospect of your violent affections, and exactly how wonderful they will all feel—all when I can not so much as smile at you!”

He grinned wickedly at her then and waggled his eyebrows at her, and it was as if the sun finally had broken in their little room. They both laughed together, as Victoria caressed his face, trying to fill her hands with the feel of him enough to withstand the torture of the day ahead.

“My beautiful William,” she whispered, “I can’t wait.” Her lips found his tenderly...

Her mind returned to the present.  She felt his eyes on her, and she turned to smile at him. It was like home all over again, she thought—sharing secret smiles when no one else was looking. The ferryman was looking straight ahead, and they were quite in the middle of the river. So Victoria puckered her lips at William, miming a kiss. His grin grew broader and he returned her gesture with a heat in his eyes that turned her blood to water. Oh yes, they were both of the same mind right now. She gave him a wicked glance and his smile grew broader, as his eyebrows wagged ever so slightly at her.

But at least he had relaxed, she thought as she turned back around to face the palace.

As they drew closer, he leaned in to whisper in her ear, “allow me to do the introductions, Cousin. As your male relation who is responsible for you and who is also an English subject, it would be more appropriate.”

“I shall follow your lead, William.”

“Do not be nervous--Drina. I am sure Her Majesty will love you.”

Shortly after, they had landed into the same little walled courtyard as the day before. The steward reappeared and led them out down the same long galleried hallway into the Presence Chamber, where they waited with the other courtiers. The trumpet sounded shortly after they arrived, and the same procession of the day before was repeated.

Today the Queen wore a soft confection of a blue gown the color of the sky, with an ethereal white ruff and touches of lace that adorned her here and there like wisps of clouds, along with pearls and bright winking diamonds.

She seated herself, and repeated the same speech of the day before. And once again Sir William Cecil came forward with a scroll and read the names of petitioners.

“Mr. William Lamb, and the Viscountess Alexandrina Zoransky of the Duchy of Prussia!”

They were not only on the list, they were first! Victoria’s hands were shaking as she and William approached the dais in the same way as they had witnessed the petitioners of the day before. At least they’d had a day to watch and learn, she thought as they bowed before the reigning monarch.

Elizabeth was a striking woman up close. Beautiful in a fanciful, otherworldly kind of way.

Her golden eyes regarded Victoria narrowly, assessing her carefully. Victoria suddenly felt very small and young under the Queen’s scrutiny, the way she did when chastised and belittled by Sir John Conroy, when she was still living at Kensington, all her faults and childish ways displayed for all to see. It was as if Elizabeth could see straight into her soul, weigh up all her faults and shortcomings, and find her wanting.

But she herself was also a Queen, she reminded herself. And Lord M—William, she told herself sternly—was by her side. She straightened her spine again and notched her chin high, but not too high. She was not Queen here, true, but she knew what it meant to project courage when one did not necessarily feel it.

Elizabeth looked back and forth between them, and in her eyes, Victoria saw a flash of interest, curiosity. For several charged seconds, no one spoke. Then William broke the silence.

“Your Majesty,” he said in his velvet voice, sweeping up from a low, courtly bow born of much practice with royalty. “Thank you for your gracious reception. May I present to you the Viscountess Alexandrina Zoransky of the Duchy of Prussia, recently arrived on your shores.”

Victoria curtsied deeply. At least her own royal training should stand her in good stead here as well.

“Your Majesty. I am deeply honored to meet you. I am a great admirer of England and of yourself,” she said quickly in German.

“Our apologies that our Prussian is not proficient,” the Queen said in an elegant flow of French that even Victoria had to admire. “Will French suffice?”

“I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty,” Victoria said in French, with a bow. “In the very great excitement of meeting you, I forgot my English.” Then she repeated her greeting in English, hoping this show of foreignness would help their cause.

“Do not apologize,” the Queen said with a smile, looking pleased. “It is easy to default to one’s own language when one is excited. We are glad to find you speak English, Viscountess. You are most welcome to England. You may approach us.”

Victoria swallowed hard, her heart thumping as she approached her greatest role model, hardly believing that she was really here. She knelt before the Queen’s outstretched hand, took it in her own, and kissed the ring of state. She was preparing to stand again when the fine boned, white hand shot out and clasped her chin in a cold, steely grasp, raising her face to meet the Queen’s eyes.

Up close, Elizabeth’s eyes were even more unsettling. Golden and glowing like a great cat, they pierced her own, narrowing as they regarded her, turning her face this way, and that. Assessing.

“Very pretty,” she pronounced. “Quaintly so. In a small, dark and…country…fashion. And your English is exceptional,” the Queen releasing her. “Without any trace of Prussian in your accent. Our deepest compliments.”

Victoria nodded, lowering her eyes again as she felt the stab of incredulity in Elizabeth’s tone about her language. “I thank you, Majesty. I had an English tutor who was most strict. He was determined at all costs to correct my pronunciation.”

“He was successful, it seems.” She nodded in acknowledgment. “And this is your kinsman?” The Queen nodded to William. “We would have his name again.”

“William Lamb, Your Majesty. He is my cousin.”

“Untitled?” The Queen sounded surprised.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Strange to have a Viscountess as a cousin and no real title of your own. How very peculiar,” the Queen addressed her remarks to William. “Nor any lands?”

“None anymore, Your Majesty. I was obliged to sell my estate some months ago to settle some debts.”

“How very unfortunate. And yet, your looks and manners are extremely courtly. You handle yourself with an almost regal dignity, as well as any of our other courtiers. We wonder why we have not been graced with your presence ere now, William Lamb.”

There was a tone of reproach in the Queen’s words, but also an unmistakable tone of…flirtation. Victoria saw the Queen’s eyes narrow with interest and she swallowed hard, fighting herself to keep her place as Elizabeth swept up from her throne, past Victoria and descended towards William, to the murmuring of the Court. He again made her an impeccable bow. But the Queen sidled right up to him, clamped her hand to his chin and raised him up from his bow, looking him up and down with obvious approval.

“Viscountess,” The Queen addressed her over her shoulder, while keeping her eyes fixed on William, “we must congratulate you on your very good sense to have such a handsome cousin, however untitled and unfortunate,” The Queen said, making her courtiers giggle appreciatively.

Victoria felt a vice squeeze around her heart until she almost stopped breathing.

_Oh no. Oh no oh no oh God no…_

William would not meet Victoria’s eyes, nor Elizabeth’s, but kept them trained at a neutral place on the floor, his face a mask of neutrality Victoria had seen him wear in many tense situations before. It was just as well. It would not do at this stage for the entire Court to see the way they looked at each other. She watched his complexion pale and then darken. He was blushing, she realized. Was he flattered by the Queen’s obvious interest?

“Have you a wife?”

“No longer, Your Majesty. My wife died some years ago.”

“Our condolences,” said the Queen, in a tone that indicated she was anything but sorry.

“You are very gracious, Majesty. I thank you.”

“Viscountess, we are pleased to make your acquaintance. But pray tell us, why have you come?” The Queen at last dragged her eyes with reluctance back to Victoria.

Victoria could not help looking to William for assistance, who raised his eyes to hers briefly.

With the long practice of such looks passing between them, William picked up the conversation with his usual diplomatic ease.

“If your Majesty pleases, my cousin is quite…shy. She has long admired you and, I fear that so many courtiers and your gracious self make it very difficult for her to tell her story. Especially in English. With your permission, might I be of some assistance answering your questions?”

The Queen inclined her head regally, a smile playing at the corner of her full, red lips as she began to pace a circle slowly around William. He was stone-faced, and doing his best to ignore the Queen’s obvious intense interest. Not easy, when she lay a hand idly on his shoulder and began dragging her fingers lightly across his shoulder blades as she circled behind him, then over his other shoulder, around his collarbone, and back across his shoulders again, looking him up and down with an expression that could only be called…hungry.

He cleared his throat and began the recital of the background story he had constructed for them. Victoria did her part to look sad and worried in all the appropriate moments, and unconcerned about the very marked attentions that Elizabeth was giving William.

It took all of Victoria’s willpower to stand firm and adopt the same stony-faced neutrality that she had learned from William. Inside, it was as if her heart was shredding into tiny little pieces. As if Elizabeth had casually reached through her chest, pulled it out still beating, and began to tear it with her bare hands.

“What a very sad story,” Elizabeth said finally as he concluded. “Our sincere condolences to you too, Viscountess, for the loss of your father and husband. So tragic. I cannot imagine.”

“I thank you, Majesty,” Victoria was surprised at the real compassion in Elizabeth’s voice. She did sympathize. But what if she should ever find out that it was untrue?

“If your cousin were to have a title, and an estate of his own, surely that would help, would it not?” She resumed her circle around William, though this time, without touching him. “Such a pity to have so much to offer, and have lost so much.”

“That was not our purpose in coming here, Your Majesty,” William said hastily. “It is solely for my cousin that we disturb your peace today, who I am greatly distressed to find I am unable to assist as I would like. I wondered if Your Majesty might have any suggestions to offer about what could be done for her. Or if there was a family somewhere who needed a companion…”

“Do not distress yourself, Mr. William Lamb. Your concern for your cousin is obvious. It is clear to us why you have come, and it was right for you to do so. Your motives are entirely…unselfish.” She turned her smile onto Victoria, and for a fleeting moment, Victoria felt that Elizabeth saw very clearly—too clearly—what was between them both.

She glided back toward her throne and seated herself with more queenly grace than Victoria had ever managed.

“We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Viscountess. And that of your handsome cousin, Mr. William Lamb. Where are you currently residing?” She turned her blithely sweet smile on Victoria.

“I have rooms in town, Majesty,” William said. “We are residing there for the present.”

“Rooms? What a very…intimate…setting that must be for two…cousins…to enjoy.”

Victoria's heart was hammering so loud she was sure the Queen could hear it. 

“The proceeds from the sale of my estate were used primarily to pay some family debt.  The rest was carefully invested, and has provided me with a small income, only as befits a single man. I procured the rooms for myself only, prior to her arrival. My cousin’s needs were not anticipated.”

“But you have taken her in, because you are her only living connection, though you do not have the means to support her?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.  How indeed could I do otherwise?”

“Indeed.  What a very interesting and…compassionate man you are, Mr. Lamb. What do you with yourself, with no estate to manage and no profession to oversee?”

“I have devoted a particular amount of time to researching the life of St. Chrysostom, Majesty. My estate was never very grand, and I have never really been a man of elaborate means, but what little discretionary time and monies I had I generally spent in the perusal of history and philosophy, and sometimes botany. None of which I find my current living conditions can afford me to continue, unfortunately.”

“Indeed? So you are a scholar? What a very interesting choice in subjects. Do you feel that you would benefit from his example?”

“I feel I could learn a great deal from him, Your Majesty, yes.”

“Especially now that you are in reduced circumstances. What a very great pity.”

“Well…most of my knowledge upon the subject comes from my...previous life, Your Majesty, before the change. Although many of my own collection of volumes had to be sold with the estate, I retained the notes I had made from my time among them. I hope to compile them into a work of my own.”

“We see. Are you Catholic, William Lamb?”

“No, Your Majesty. I am a Protestant. But while I do not agree with his Catholicism, I do find that many of his qualities and acts were admirable and inspirational for Catholic and Protestant alike.”

“It is clear that we have similar views on religious tolerance then, William Lamb. What a very interesting and refreshing man you are. Well then,” she looked from William to Victoria. “What is to be done about the pair of you? The impoverished and widowed but charmingly pretty and graceful Viscountess, with no home and no where to turn, and her most interesting and scholarly kinsman.” She sat back on her throne just a fraction, steepling her long fingers thoughtfully. Her look turned speculative as she gazed at William, then she stood as if in decision.

The Court seemed to read it that way too, and everyone remained still and silent, waiting for her verdict.

“You will both leave us today,” the Queen pronounced in a loud, authoritative tone. “Return to your rooms in London. Gather what belongings you have, and give your landlord notice.”

“Your Majesty!” William Cecil interjected.

She didn’t even glance at her advisor, but raised a hand casually to silence him. “Peace, Sir William! We have made up our mind. Both the Viscountess and her cousin are entirely too ornamental to be left in dingy town rooms to contemplate their lonely fates. Mr. William Lamb, our loyal subject, has appealed to us for aid on behalf of his young kinswoman, who is fresh of face and bright of eye, if a little small, foreign and dark. It is clear that without our intervention, she will have no hope of a second marriage, and her sympathetic cousin not a prayer of being able to afford writing paper enough to compose his great work.

“Henceforth, beginning tomorrow, we shall expect Viscountess Alexandrina of the Duchy of Prussia and Mr. William Lamb to attend us at Court. The Viscountess will make an excellent addition to our ladies, and no doubt shall find more suitors than she can count by the end of a fortnight. And as for her handsome cousin, he will stay as her guardian and protector, and he shall have full discretion as to suitors who appeal for her hand. He will remain by her side until such a time as she is legally married again, at which point, his duty to his family will be esteemed to be wholly and honorably discharged.

“Sir William, see to it that they are comfortably appointed here at Whitehall, and be it known that we extend our patronage to them both, to assist with any and all expenses that they may require. Clothing and adornments as is required of all fashionable courtiers, and for the Viscountess, a dowry of one thousand pounds, as a token of our goodwill, both to herself and to her country of origin. For her cousin, perhaps an allowance for…paper, and books, and other incidentals as he may require,” she smiled at Lord M, “a small reward for his devotion to duty, but one we would very much like to grant. Have you any further debts, Sir?”

“I…do, Your Majesty. Just one. But it is too great to--”

“It is of no great consequence. We shall see it settled also. So let it be done, Sir William.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Sir William Cecil bowed, clearly unhappy, and exited out a side door.

“Your Majesty is most generous. I—do not know how to express my gratitude,” William said, his head bowed low. “I—came not for myself today and am most humbled by your kindness. I would hope to repay you at some future juncture.”

“It is not expected, or required to repay a gift, William Lamb. We are pleased to extend our generosity as is in our power to such worthy subjects, and your requests and needs are most modest. Of course, you would wish to see your cousin well wed again, and provided for. We wish to see this also,” she had descended from her throne and approached William again. With a hand poised delicately under his chin, she raised his eyes to hers again. “Go now, with our blessing. Pack what belongings you care to bring and make your arrangements. Return to-morrow by the evening meal, and all here will be prepared for you. Inform your debtors to send to the palace for repayment in full.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he bowed again, and extended his hand to Victoria. She suddenly came to life, feeling wooden and clumsy, and made her way down to him, taking his hand delicately in hers.

“Farewell,” said the Queen behind them. “We look forward to your return to us, to-morrow.” But her eyes were entirely on William as she smiled.

As they were ushered from the throne room, Victoria observed the courtiers around them whispering behind their hands. Some of their looks were appraising, while others were hostile, but she hardly noticed. She was glad they did not have to return until tomorrow night.

As it happened, she was feeling rather violent too.

 


	13. Chapter 13--Come Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William and Victoria return to the inn for one last night together before removing to the Palace of Whitehall and the Court of Elizabeth I. 
> 
> **Heat advisory...strong/graphic content. Mature readers only.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Can't ever keep from falling apart at the seams  
> Can I believe you're taking my heart to pieces?
> 
> Ahh, it'll take a little time  
> Might take a little crime to come undone  
> Now we'll try to stay blind to the hope and fear outside  
> Hey child, stay wilder than the wind and blow me in to cry
> 
> Who do you need?  
> Who do you love?  
> When you come undone?”  
> (Duran Duran, 1993).

Chapter 13—Come Undone

 

It was evening by the time they returned to the inn. When they arrived they saw that their purchases had been delivered in advance, and each had a respectable trousseau filled with clothing and necessary items to be sent along to Whitehall in the morning. Finally, Victoria thought, she’d be able to change her dress tomorrow, and have a nice, hot bath before the fire.

William had insisted they do their shopping ahead of time, as he put it, because he had no intention of getting out of bed tomorrow before they had to dress and leave for the palace.

So they had purchased for their immediate needs, and all their creditors had been referred to the palace for repayment, and then sent for a full supper to be delivered to their room upon their arrival. It had been done, and so when they arrived in their room at the inn after their errands were finished, there was a roaring fire in the hearth and a lovely, steaming supper set before it, along with a bottle of red wine.

William bolted the door, sealing out the world at last, leaving the two of them blissfully and finally alone. The next twenty-four hours were for the two of them.  He turned from the door, hitting her with the full burning of his emerald gaze, searing her down to her toes. 

Victoria gazed at him, her heart in her eyes, the air between them heavy with fear, with love and passion and with the weight of so much that was unspoken still between them.

He said nothing, but crossed the room to her in two long strides, took her face in his hands and seized her mouth with his.

His kiss burned her lips even as it soothed them, stirred and assuaged her fears, filled her with desperate longing and with the completest bliss she had ever known.

He and he alone held the key to her heart! He and he alone was the very air she breathed. Her need for him was so great…so great she almost sobbed against him. She could almost feel Elizabeth pulling him away from her, so that even in his arms, even as he kissed her she tasted despair.

“Victoria,” he gasped as he released her, stroking her face, searching her eyes. “Oh my love…”

He knew. Of course he knew. He always knew what she was feeling, even before she herself did.

“Lord…M…,” she choked, and he pulled her close to himself. “Whatever will we do now?” She sobbed against his chest as she circled her arms around him to grasp his shoulders, squeezing him tight against her.

“Shhh,” he whispered, stroking her back as she struggled not to cry over his brocaded chest. “Hush, My Love. We will find a way. Do not distress yourself so.”

“I am afraid,” she whimpered against him, “I am so afraid. I’ve never been so afraid of anything as I am of losing you…”

“You will never lose me.”

“I feel almost as though…as though I already have,” she clung to him, to her Lord M. “She wants you,” she wailed into his doublet, “and now she’s the Queen and I am not, she will have you! She will t-take you from me…”

“Listen to me,” he pulled her away from himself, cradling her face in his hands, “No one—no one—can ever take me away from you. Do you understand me, Victoria?” there were tears in his eyes now, and his voice broke on a sob of his own, “She can only command me to her side, but she cannot command my heart from you. It is yours. Entirely yours. It always will be. You alone are the Queen of my heart, and no other Queen will ever have claim to me.”

“Hold me,” she cried suddenly, “Oh God, William, hold me! I need to feel you arms around me…hold me tight and don’t ever let me go!”

He did as she bade, and after a time reached down, scooped her into his arms and carried her to their bed. Setting her down with extreme gentleness, he seated himself next to her and then gathered her onto his lap and into his arms, wrapping his body around her and laying his cheek against her hair.

Victoria curled up against the warm, solid reassurance of him, inhaling him deeply, her hands trembling against his chest, and willed herself not to think of tomorrow. Not to think of anything past this moment. This night. And the fact that no matter what may befall them both, he loved her.

They didn’t talk for sometime. Words were not necessary. He gave her something far more precious--the solace of his arms around her, his body to support her, his heartbeat beneath her ear. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the whisper of his breathing.  And for a time, it was enough for them both simply to touch and hold on to each other, to occasionally pet and caress each other, and gradually Victoria felt herself calming. So long as he was touching her, she was content.

“Do you know, I used to dream about this,” she said at length. “I used to sit in my room alone at Buckingham Palace at night, close my eyes and wonder what it would be like to curl up against you this way. To have you hold me while I slept. To wake up in your strong arms and see you there beside me, your eyes as green as the spring grass, and have you blink your long eyelashes at me, smile at me in that charming way you are wont to do and say, ‘Good Morning, Ma’am. I must say you are a beautiful sight first thing in the morning.’”

He huffed out a laugh and she felt him smile against her hair, then place a kiss atop her head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard myself described in such a poetic way before,” he said, chest vibrating with silent laughter. “Is that truly the way you see me?”

“No. My words do not do you justice, I’m afraid. You are frightfully handsome, Lord M.”

“Hmph.  Have I ever told you how much I adore your nearsightedness, Ma’am?”

“I am not nearsighted in the least,” she said in mock offense, thumping his chest, making him chuckle all the more.

“Did you truly used to dream about me thus?”

“Waking and sleeping.”

“I trust the reality does not disappoint you,” he said softly.

“Mmm, quite the reverse. If I had known how good you truly felt, Lord M, I’d have thrown myself at you long ago.”

He chuckled at that too, and she found herself laughing with him.

“What a sight that would be! I hope I would have had the good reflexes and sense to catch you before you hit the ground.”

She laughed again. “Indeed I should hope. I should be most cross with you if you let me fall.”

“I would never let you fall.”

“No. You wouldn’t. You have always been there for me. From the very beginning.” She ran her fingers along the stripes of embroidery across his chest.

“It has been my privilege and my pleasure to serve you, Ma’am. As you know well.”

“What a very Prime Minister-ish thing to say, my dear Lord Melbourne.”

“But rather a compromising position in which to say it.”

She chuckled and wriggled closer to him. As long as she could be here in his arms this way, all was well in the world. She sighed, tracing her finger down the vertical lines of his buttons idly.

“It truly was this I was after, that first night in the brothel.”

“I know it was. But I was not capable of it then.”

“Why ever not?”

He huffed another laugh. “I should have thought that was obvious to you by now. I was eaten alive with wanting you. I could not have kept it this innocent for you then. My lust was too great.  And I had consumed far too much brandy to be safe in your company under any circumstances.”

"Had you indeed?"

"Most definitely.  Let alone see you in your night attire.  Good Lord, Ma'am, what a disadvantage you had me at!  God only knows how I kept from ravishing you from the very moment I had you all to myself."

"I would have loved it if you had."

"Yes, you made that very clear.  It was distinctly unhelpful, if you don't mind me saying so."

"You certainly kept your lust hidden from me.  For a while there I began to think you either found me entirely unattractive or disliked me altogether."

"You knew better than that, surely."

"I did not.  I did not know why you shrank away from me so.  It made me so wretched.  I thought you must find me ugly."

"No.  I did not find you in the least bit ugly.  I found you to be the most alluring and beautiful creature I had ever set eyes on.  Never more so than that night, with your great, shimmering blue eyes looking up at me with such bold and curious desire, bidding me so innocently to follow you to bed.  You were an angel, My Love.  And I a devil.  A wicked, dark and twisted thing who wanted you--God how I wanted you! I wanted things that would have shattered your innocence, things that made me despise myself for wanting.  But you in your innocent goodness could not see me for the monster I was.  I did not trust myself within two leagues of you, and here we were sharing the same room...in a brothel no less.  And you, beckoning me to your bed."

"You are in no way a monster, Lord M!"

"Oh but I am, Victoria.  I am.  In time, you will see that.  But I hope you also remember that I am a monster who very sincerely loves you."

“As I very sincerely love you too."  She snuggled closer, sighing.  "Do you not lust after me any longer? You are holding me quite nicely now without the rest of it.”

He chuckled.  “Well, it’s the difference between being hungry for dinner Ma’am, and half starved to death.  When one is merely hungry, one is content to wait until the time is right.  Whereas if one is starving, one is far less rational.”

“Were you half starved to death?”

“I was at death’s door.”

It was her turn to chuckle at that.

“It was as bad as all that, was it?”

“And worse.” He tightened his arms around her just a little and gave her a squeeze. “It has been quite a time since I’ve…well, been with a woman this way.”

“And that is not something you are accustomed to?” She chewed her lip worriedly.

“No. It was not.”

“I see.”

“Victoria…”

“No you don’t have to…”

“Yes, I think I do.” He pulled away a little to look into her eyes. “I’m not a blameless man, my love. I have not lived a chaste life.”

“William—”

“No. Please. Hear me.” He smoothed her hair back from her face. “But from the earliest moments of our acquaintance, there has been no woman for me but you.”

“So all this time?”

“All this time.”

“While I have been savoring and enjoying every moment of your company, you have been so very lonely,” she said, cupping his face sadly. “And so very hungry for more than I could give. I am so sorry.”

He turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm. “Do not be. I enjoyed every moment far more than I could ever express…Ma’am.” He smiled. “And now…I am the happiest of men."  He leaned in and kissed her, softly and decadently slowly, until she sighed against him.

“Do you wish me to climb out of you lap?” she offered when he released her. “I am feeling better.”

“No,” he whispered. “I never wish you to climb out of my lap.”

Suddenly his mouth was covering hers with a hunger that sent shock waves through her. A shiver ran down her spine and she moaned, prompting an answering one from him, until soon his hands danced along her spine, loosening buttons of her dress. He lifted it off of her and tossed it onto the floor, then barely missing a beat before his hands were on her again, frantically moving along her back. She felt her corset loosen and give way and that too landed on the floor. Followed by skirts, and finally her shift.

He sighed deep in his throat as he feasted his hands and eyes on her body. “Much better.”

“Not yet,” she said, reaching for his doublet.

He helped her undress him until finally, there were no more barriers between them. Seizing her mouth with his and holding her tight to him, he pulled her down on top of him on the bed.

Victoria hovered over him, loving the glazed look in his eyes as he sought her breasts with first his hands, then his mouth. 

“Ride me,” his voice was ragged as he released her, and his eyes dark as midnight as he lay back on the bed, pushing her up into a sitting position astride his body, his big warm hands on her hips, sliding her down until she felt him press against her rear. “Ride me hard, Victoria, as hard as you can. I want to watch you do it…Ohh, ride me so damn hard…”

She had discovered she liked being on top of him. It put her in control. And she needed that now. She looked down at him, so strong and so perfect…a mountain of pure, naked male beauty, his eyes dark and smoldering, half closed, so utterly and perfectly hers…and suddenly she was angry all over again. At everyone and everything that had ever tried to come between them, in this time period and in their own. Everyone who had tried to deny them this beauty, this perfection! Damn them all! Damn every last one of them. And especially—Elizabeth.

She did as he bade her.  Rising up to her knees she positioned herself over him and slowly sank down upon him, taking him all the way inside of her, both of them shuddering with pleasure.  She began to move on him, her every motion coaxing heavenly sounds from him, gaining momentum from the strength of her passion, mingled with her anger and fear. God how she loved this man!  How she wanted to spend every moment of every day making love to him!  Feeling him inside of her was the greatest joy she had ever known.  They were so in love!  So in love!  Why could everyone not see that?  Why could they not leave them alone, free to love one another fully?  Why was it so wrong that they be together?  

“Harder,” he coaxed. “Take it all out on me…all of it…give it to me, Victoria, I can take it all—you wont hurt me…oh God yesss…”

She quickened her movements, let his hands guide her slowly up, teasing him like he liked, and then slamming hard back down on him, sending white hot lightening through them both. He filled her so completely, so perfectly. It was so good…so very good…to feel him inside of her after everything that had happened today. Oh yes, this was what she needed! This was what she craved! _Hers!_ Hadn’t he said so? Ohh, when she came down on him he hit that one beautiful spot…her head lolled to the side and she anchored her hands on his lower abdomen. He was so beautiful beneath her…his eyes glazed with passion as he stared at her open-mouthed and ran his hands over her body. It was so wondrous a thing, love and love making. If she had only known on that first day when her handsome, handsome Prime Minister had dropped to his knees before her, grazing her knuckles with his beautiful lips, that one day they would be here like this…and he would be utterly hers…

“I won’t—let—her—have you!” she cried, holding his eyes with hers as she slowly rose up and then slammed back down on him, her pleasure spiking at the glaze of lust in his eyes. Damn Elizabeth! She came down on him hard. He was hers! All—hers! Visions of their audience today flashed before her eyes. How dare the Queen put her hands—on—HIM! Harder, and harder she slammed down, her fury and fear uncurling inside of her, mingling with love and desire, as she threw her head back and screamed from between her clenched teeth until he gasped and swore, and gazed at her as if she were a goddess. “You—are—MINE! I—will—NEVER—let—you—GO!”

“YESSS!” He panted, his big, hot hands clamping down on her waist. “I AM! Yours! All—yours!  My love, my Queen!!”

“Ohhh God,” her eyes rolled back and her head lolled to the side as she came down on him again. “William! I can’t—live—without—you—INSIDE ME!”

“Victoria—bloody HELL, VICTORIA!”

She felt him come inside of her and let out a coo of rapture, opened her eyes to watch his face as his climax took him, and then she tried something she’d done before and squeezed down on him as hard as she could, sliding up and down on top of him, teasing, releasing him and tightening again, provoking a strangled curse as he cried out, long and loud, and her own climax rocked through her body in wave after sparkling wave.

When it was over, she collapsed on top of him and he gathering her into his arms, both of them shaking with exertion and with aftershocks. Victoria curled up against his chest, loving his arms around her as he gazed up at her with the most perfect, satisfied smile she’d ever seen him wear.

“You…naughty girl,” he slurred, grinning. “Damnation, woman, you are a vixen.” He nuzzled her happily. “Victoria…oh my beautiful, beautiful Queen…”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“God no,” he laughed. “It was--you were--you are…amazing…perfect…My Love.” He kissed her then his head fell backwards, eyes unfocused. “Bloody bloody hell! You make me come so hard!”

“Really, Lord M, you do make such a fuss,” she giggled, nuzzling him back. “You are so cute like this.” She touched her fingers to his face, traced the line of his brow, trailing her finger down over the sharp planes of his cheekbones to follow the line of his sweet smile, feeling more than a little smug that she had brought him to such a state.

“Cute, Ma’am?” He huffed out a laugh. “What a terrible thing to say to a man after what you’ve just brought him to.”

“But you look so adorably wobbly,” she said, kissing his nose. “And your words are all slurred. I love you like this.”

His mouth twitched with the efforts to repress his smile. “Well. Far be it from me to deprive you of any pleasure, Ma’am. No matter the cost to my dignity.”

She giggled and kissed his gorgeous mouth. “Your dignity? What about mine? I have absolutely none left where you are concerned, so it is only right that neither do you.”

He smiled as he stroked her cheek, his eyes shining with warmth and tenderness. “You’re right of course. There is no place—and indeed no need—for dignity between lovers. Only intimacy.” He smoothed her hair back behind her ear. “How beautifully tousled you are, Ma’am. You take my breath away like this.” He wrapped his hand behind the nape of her neck and drew her down for another kiss. “I never thought to ever…ever….see you this way…except in my wildest fantasies.” He stroked his thumb across her lower lip. “Or to call you mine,” he smiled into her eyes with such happiness that it robbed her of her breath and melted her heart. “Would that I were a younger man and could please you so well and so thoroughly as you do me.”

“You do please me so very well,” she said, nuzzling him. “Which I think you are perfectly aware of.” She snuggled up against him, laying her head on his chest, closing her eyes and listening to the reassuring sound of his breathing, his heartbeat under her ear. She curled her fingers through the springy hairs of his chest and sighed. Oh, how could she bear ever being anywhere else again? “This is all I’ve ever wanted,” she whispered. “All I could ever need in this life. Just you. Just me. Here like this.”

He purred beneath her and wrapped his arms more tightly around her. “Me too, My Love. Me too.”

Sated and drowsy, they dozed, Victoria’s eyes heavy as he combed his fingers idly through her hair, holding the long silky strands up to the light and letting them drop again.

His hands in her hair, running down her body felt sooo good.

“Talk to me,” she whispered, running her fingers over his chest and down his abdomen as far as she could reach.

She felt him lurch briefly beneath her with a laugh.

“What do you wish me to say…Ma’am?”

She smiled. “Anything. Anything you wish to say. I love the sound of your voice.”

He jerked again with amusement. “Shall I tell you what is on my mind right now?”

“Yes, please do.”

“I am thinking how adorable you are. How beautiful and perfect your every feature is. How the moment I leave you, I want to be back inside of you again.” This last part he whispered, and she shivered. “How will I bear it when we go to Court, and I see you across the room, dressed in your finery, once again distant. Unapproachable. And so damned lovely. And our eyes will meet, and immediately, I will be transported back here to this moment, where I’m lying in the dark with you, naked, with nothing and no one in between us. And you are mine, and I yours.

“I will close my eyes then, and you will know that I am seeing you again, poised above me, your head thrown back in wild abandon of what I make you feel, your breasts jiggling, and your long hair plastered to your face in perspiration as you ride me, taking your pleasure from me, looking so unutterably beautiful...dear God. If I live to be a thousand years old, Victoria, I shall never again be able to forget the sight of you like that.  To know that I was the man you chose to awaken you to the art of love. I shall forever be grateful.”

She sat up and frowned at him. “That sounds decidedly like a goodbye, Lord M. Have you given up on us already?”

“No,” he raised one arm over his head and propped himself up to see her better. With his other hand, he caressed her cheek with such softness that her eyes closed involuntarily and she leaned in to his touch. “I shall never give up on us.  But I can hardly be the only man who will fall under your spell in Elizabeth’s court. I fear you will have no end of suitors, vying for your hand.”

“But none of them that I love. Except you.” She leaned into his hand, cupped it with both of hers and turned her lips to his skin. “As you should know very well.”

“I do. But some of them, doubtless, may be handsome enough to turn your eye.”

“Do you really suppose that some handsome _Tudor-era_ man is going to steal me away from you? What do you take me for, Lord M?”

“A woman far above me, that I do not deserve.” He smiled sadly.

“And so you expect to lose me?” Her brow furrowed.

“You are so young…”

“Do not tell me I am 'so young' ever again!” Victoria moved away from him, wrapping herself in a sheet.  "I am not so very young.  And I am sick to death of hearing you say it!"

“I am not blaming you. It is no fault of your own!”

“But you think me flighty! You think I am the sort of woman who would…crawl into your bed and then into another man’s that easily? There is only one word for the sort of woman you think I am, Lord Melbourne!”

“No indeed, Victoria, I never meant—”

“You think me of loose morals! You think me a whore!”

“No indeed and I never said as much!”

She was surprised to hear the anger in his voice too. He had never raised his voice to her, and yet he did so now. But she was too furious to note it.

“You forget to whom you speak!”

“No indeed, Your Majesty, and I never have!”

“How _dare_ you raise your voice to me!”

He lowered his head, eyes squeezed shut in pain, shoulders slumped, face red.

“Your Majesty,” he said in a voice no louder than a whisper, “I am a man haunted by the ghosts of his many failures. Most of them have to do with relationships of a highly personal nature. Things that have nothing to do with you and you are not in any way responsible for. And yet, I fear, now that you are in a relationship with me, you will be very much a victim of.” He raised his eyes to her, and her anger melted at the shadows and pain in his eyes. “It is partly this I sought to spare you from, Ma’am, in the beginning. The ghosts of my past have voices. And they are very much with me. Always blaming, always recriminating. Their owners are dead, but I carry them still. I feel the burden of all their disappointments. Of all the times I f-failed them—” he shook his head to shake off the emotion. “It is not your constancy I doubt, Victoria. It is my worth. My ability to make you happy. You _are_ young, and so beautiful and vibrant. I fear you will—outgrow your interest in me and…you too will regret that you ever—”

She dropped the sheet and raced toward him. Kneeling before him she kissed him. “Forgive me,” she whispered, “Oh my love…please forgive me…I am a foolish, selfish girl and it is I who do not deserve you!”

She covered his mouth with hers, kissed his lips, kissed the tears away from his cheeks. Kissed his eyelids, the lines of worry and care between them, the tip of his nose until he raised his tortured eyes to her, the dimmest of hopes shining in them as he looked at her, as if hardly daring to hope that she was real.

“Forgive me,” she pleaded again, laying her head against his. “Oh my love I am so sorry.”

“You have no need to be—”

“I have every need to be,” she said in earnest. “Dearest William. I love you so very much.”

“I fear I am not an easy man to—love…Victoria…” he gazed at her. “I do not wish to burden you with—”

“You are no burden to me!” She kissed him, and coaxed him, running her hands up over his knees, relishing the fuzzy texture of his strong legs beneath her hands. “You are everything to me. Everything! I will not let the past torment you any further."

He returned her kiss with rising passion and captured her face in his big warm hands until she sighed. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her along the whole length of his hard, naked, male body. Victoria shivered and melted against him as he kissed along the column of her neck, his hot hands moving down her body and grasping her thighs, suddenly lifting her off the ground.

Instinctively, Victoria wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, and abruptly found her back against a nearby wall. She felt boneless as he entered her, heat blossoming all through her body as he thrust himself hard inside of her. Again. And again. And again.

“Victoria…” he growled against her, “Oh God what you do to to me!”

His words shivered through her, triggering more ripples of pleasure.

“I want you every where. Every way.”

“I want it too! Oh I want it all! All with you!”

“Are you sure about that? I may shock you.”

“Shock me! Go ahead--I want you to!”

He thrust hard inside of her and she moaned.

He pulled away and gave her a devilish smile.

“My little vixen,” he whispered, “By God I shall.”

He carried her back to the bed and dropped her to her feet. She watched him, puzzled, as he gathered some pillows and made a small mound of them.

He kissed her softly and smiled that devilish smile again. “Turn around--Ma’am.”

She did as he bade her, her heart thudding. What was he up to?

“Crawl onto the bed, place your hips onto the pillows.”

She obeyed, curious and excited as he positioned her where he wanted her, with her bottom thrust up in the air. Then she felt him cover her, spreading his hands and his kisses all over her back, warming her, caressing her, tasting her skin until she moaned.

“You are such a beauty,” he purred, “you have no idea what you do to me.”

“Nor you to me,” she said over her shoulder, sighing as his warm body rose up over her.

“I feel violent, Victoria,” he whispered in her ear. “I want to claim you, body and soul. I want to brand you as mine.”

“You have already,” she whispered.

“I have made love to you, yes. But what I want now is different. It is base. Raw. Animal. It will not be gentle. Can you bear me this way?”

Her heart thumped in her chest with excitement. “Yes,” she said, sighing, wanting answers to the mystery of him. Wanting to know everything he knew about love and sex. Wanting to please him.

“You are sure?” He ran his hands around to cup her breast, kneading it.

“Yes,” she breathed, and he rose up over her, turning her chin around to face him as he kissed her deeply, giving her his tongue as he dipped his hand lower, reaching that place between her legs that throbbed with need for him. She moaned against him when he found his target.

“Ohh, you are so ready for me,” he whispered.

She couldn’t help it. He touched her, she came. He moaned himself and before she knew what happened, he was pushing inside of her, filling her completely as another wave washed over her and she screamed.

He felt different this way! Oh but so good! He thrust hard and deep, and fast, making deliciously ferocious sounds as he moved inside her, behind her, slamming against her and churning her insides to jelly.

He had been right, it was base. And she admitted to herself, she was a bit shocked. At him, at herself, at the sounds he was making and what it was doing to her. It was animal. It was shameful. It was wholly barbaric.

And absolutely exquisite.

She couldn’t touch him, that was the worst part. But oh, the way he made her feel like this!

“William!” She thrust her hips back to him, higher, questing, wanting, oh so much more! “Harder!”

With a long shuddering moan, he complied, and she gasped with the impact of him, and with the sheer, amazing feeling he was generating inside of her.

She was too weak to hold out and as he thrust again she felt her climax rip through her body and she screamed out his name.

She felt him shudder and soon he too roared out his own climax and they both collapsed, spent onto the bed.

 

* * *

 

They drifted. Disembodied…floating, entangled in the sheer perfection of each other…

And she was once again laying against him, her head pillowed over his heart, her delicate little body so heavy and wrung out and spent.

So delicate. How could a woman be so fragile and yet so strong?

She lay like a sack of stones on his chest. William smiled to himself. He wasn’t a smug man, but damnation, she was enough to make even the most pious of men want to crow from the rooftops.

He drew his hands down her body lazily. Her skin was like silk. Smooth and white, and utterly beautiful.

He was in deep, deep trouble.

They both were.

He planted a kiss on top of her head, against the softness of her hair. She stirred heavily, and he smiled. He was so far passed the ability to be selfless now. So far gone he’d do anything to keep her, just like this. Suffer any fate…any wrath…

He could bear anything. Except losing her.

She had been right. So right. They should have braved their new life as simple peasant folk. Hard living, to be sure, but worth it to love her and hold her every night this way, without the world insisting that he let her go. Always insisting that he let her go. Finally he had found love, happiness…at long last it was his. Damned if he’d step aside and let another have her now. Queen or no Queen.

But now they’d set their feet to a much more dangerous path. He closed his eyes and pulled her closer, as if by doing so he could shut out the world, insure her safety, and his.

He’d not seen it coming.

How had he forgotten about Elizabeth and her men? She was notorious for it and yet…he’d somehow dismissed the notion entirely.

He hadn’t really…it was just…he never envisioned he was in any danger of becoming one of them. He’d been so focused on Victoria and the threat of another man claiming her that he’d been completely blindsided, until Elizabeth had come down to him, touching him, her voice sultry, wrapping around him, leaving him in no doubt of a few very important things. One—Elizabeth was no virgin. Her eyes were knowing, experienced, and she devoured him with her hot and hungry gaze as though he were a banquet set just for her. Two—apparently her eyesight was tremendously poor, or he had not yet lost as many of his handsome looks as he thought he had by now. And three--the situation they were in now was dire. Instead of fighting just for Victoria on one front, he was now going to be fighting on two fronts. For both Victoria and himself. And, if history and her reputation were to be believed, if the current Queen got any wind—any at all—of the true nature of his and Victoria’s relationship, Victoria would be married in half a heartbeat to the vilest Lord in the land Elizabeth could find for her and taken far, far away from court—and out of his reach forever.

It was too dangerous to continue like this. Far too dangerous. And yet, how would he be able to even suggest such a thing to her, without her coming apart at the seams? As indeed he himself felt like doing at even the suggestion. She needed him, as indeed, he needed her, simply to keep breathing.

Their best hope now rested on him being able to convince Elizabeth that he was an undesirable choice as a suitor or companion. And most especially as a lover. And hope to God that Dudley was somewhere near enough to distract her, while he and Victoria did the best they could to extricate themselves from this whole situation, while maintaining the utmost discretion with regards to their time together.

She stirred at last in his arms.

“William…” she smiled wanly, as her pretty lips landed on his chest, and his eyes fluttered shut at the contact of her soft, moist, perfect little mouth on his body.

Bloody hell, he was growing hard again!

“Damn me, what you do to me,” he slurred, his eyes closing again. “God in heaven, woman. You are perfection.”

“No. That is you.” She trailed her fingers through his chest hair idly, making figure-eights, exploring the texture of him in a way that charmed him beyond all reason.

She was so adorable. So earnest and so eager.

He chuckled briefly, stroking her hair. “By God, I knew it. I have always known…” his lips caressed hers.

“Known what?”

“That you would be like this,” he stroked her arms, sliding his hands over her shoulders and down her back and back up again. “That you would be a little vixen in bed.” He kissed her again. “I swear I could feel it…I just knew.” He caressed her cheek softly. “You were made for me, you know,” he whispered. “And I for you.” He kissed her softly and sweetly, his lips trailed onto her cheek, her eyes closed in rapture as he kissed a hot trail to her ear. "I will never let you go now."

She sighed when he called her by her old title, and letting out a ragged breath, whispered, “Lord M.”

He grew rock hard, instantly.

It was so naughty now, using their old names. He wanted to be William to her, but he also wanted to be her Lord M forever. Her adviser and friend and ally. Her protector.

Her hero.

Her eyes opened, her mouth parted. “I don’t blame her for wanting you,” she said in a trembling voice, her soft little hands on his face. He turned into her touch, kissed her palm.

“She may want me, but she will never have me.” He pulled her down and kissed her deeply. “It is too late for us both, my dear girl. We are lost to each other. Utterly, hopelessly lost…”

"But what will we do?"

"Play the hand we are dealt.  For the time being.  And look for a way out."

"What if we cannot find one?"

"We will," he said smiling, projecting a confidence he did not feel but could not bear to let go of.  "There will be one.  We just need to be alert enough to see it for what it is when the time comes.  And now...what do you say we have some dinner?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a real struggle. These kinds of chapters are out of my comfort zone, really. But I persevered for the sake of my readers who requested it. I hope it was enjoyable.


	14. Chapter 14--The Way of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and Lord M compose their very own version of "An Ode to Indolence," and find it very difficult to tear themselves away from their room at the inn--and each other.
> 
> *HEAT advisory continues...Mature readers ONLY...Do NOT read in the presence of children or at work!*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “…Baby, I will go anywhere you lead  
> As long as you're there beside me  
> Baby that's all I need  
> Hold me, hold me and never let me go  
> I'm always gonna care about you  
> Oh, I never wanna be without you
> 
> It's the way of the world and its motion  
> And no ocean can keep us apart  
> When the moment is right  
> And you're holding me tight  
> You capture the beat of my heart
> 
> In my heart there's a fire that's burning  
> And there isn't a thing I can do  
> I'm resigned to the fact  
> That there's no turning back  
> And I'll never regret loving you….”
> 
> (”Way of the World”, Tina Turner, 1991.)

Chapter 14—Way of the World

 

Victoria and William had been up most of the night, talking, cuddling and making love. Victoria could not get enough of him. And when sleep finally claimed them, she clung to his body, still touching him, still curled up against him, wondering how she would ever sleep again without William’s strong, warm arms around her.

She awoke before he did, distressed to see the traitorous sun shining through the cracks of the shuttered windows.

No, oh no. Their night was over.

Soon, too soon, they would have to dress and leave this place, never to have it again. She squeezed her eyes shut. Why was the world so dead set against them? Why was it so determined to part them? Why could the world not carry on spinning on its own, and leave them be? Was it so wrong of her to love this man? And he her?

He stirred, reaching for her. She cuddled close, eyes closing in pleasure as he sighed and gathered her close. She reached up and brushed his hair back from his forehead, heart breaking at the slight smile curling at his beautiful lips. When they were at home in their own time, he never slept in a bed. Emma told her he always slept in his chair in the library, either at Dover House or Brocket Hall. And here he was, in bed with her, reaching for her, already as accustomed to her presence as she was to his.

How could such a thing be wrong?

She brushed her fingertips across his brows, memorizing every detail of his face. How could she ever bear to be parted from him? Would this be the last morning she would ever wake next to him? The thought robbed her of breath, squeezed her heart like a vice. Without him, she was utterly alone. Marooned here, in a time that was not her own, stranded among strangers with no chance of ever seeing him, or home, again. It was a fate she could not bear to contemplate.

His smile twitched, and she realized his eyes were cracked open ever so slightly, and he was watching her behind the curtain of his eyelashes.

“Good morning, my Darling Man,” she said, fighting away the dark panic of her thoughts as she attempted a smile.

His smile widened and he purred like a contented tom cat. “Good morning, my Beauteous Queen.”

“How long have you been watching me?”

“Since first we met,” he replied, closing his eyes.

How did he manage to look so innocent with his eyes closed?

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she said, punching him lightly.

One green eye cracked open, visible beneath the lashes, and his lips twitched again.

“How long have you been awake this morning? There. Is that a specific enough question for you, Mr. Prime Minister?”

“Perfectly, Ma’am. Since you first stirred in my arms.”

“Really? And I was trying so hard not to wake you.”

He huffed a laugh. “I am a light sleeper. Especially with an angel in my arms.”

“Do I inhibit your sleep?”

“No, by no means. You enhance it. I sleep much less soundly without you. And without having indulged your endless appetites beforehand.”

“MY endless appetites?”

“Mmm,” he said in affirmation, his big, warm hand giving her posterior a squeeze and making her squeak in surprise. “Not that I’m complaining. Damn me, but I haven’t had so much delicious sex in God only knows how many years. I feel at least ten years younger and strong as a horse, and at least as well endowed.”

“Really?” She said archly, starting to feel annoyed and slightly affronted by this. It was such an...impersonal observation.  As if he did not really care for her at all.

“Yes, ‘really’,” he said, cracking one eye open and impersonating her tone. “And it’s never been so good in all my life as it is with you. But then, I’ve never loved anyone as much as I do you, Victoria.” Both of his eyes were opened now, and he fixed her with his golden green gaze, eyes round and solemn as a child’s.

“N-never?” Her pique dissipated instantly, and she was appalled to hear the high-pitched squeak of her own voice.

“No. Never.” He shook his head and took her face in his big warm hands, pulling her down and kissing her. “Mmmm…I could get so used to this, you know. I already am.” He caressed her face with his fingers and his eyes and she sighed, feeling herself melting against him. “I want you for my wife, Victoria,” he whispered, brushing his fingers against her lips, watching as her lips parted, “Nothing else matters to me any more,” he whispered, “But you, and me. And I want you so badly I’m prepared to sacrifice everything you and I both hold dear to have you.”

“There is nothing I hold dearer in life than you,” she whispered. “Not the crown. Not anything. Just you. I could live like a pauper and still be a Queen if you were by my side, my Darling William.”

“If we find a way home…”

She nodded, kissing his palm, cradling his hand against her cheek, holding it in both of hers.

“But then I believe, it will be up to you to ask…Ma’am.”

“Marry me, Lord M. If we get home…marry me. And be damned to everything else.”

“It will be my everlasting honor.” He drew her down to him and kissed her with passion. “And if we successfully navigate these shark-filled waters here in Elizabeth’s court, will you do me the same honor, Ma’am, and marry me? Since you are not officially Queen here, I suppose I should be the one to ask in such a case.” He smiled into her eyes.

“Without hesitation. Tomorrow. Today. This very moment.”

She kissed him this time, her hands against his cheeks, his ears, into the soft curls of his hair. He groaned beneath her lips and opened his mouth beneath hers, giving her his tongue.

“Would that it could be so fast,” he whispered, as she leaned her head against his. “I cannot bear it, Victoria. You with another man. I thought I could. I prayed I could…for your sake. I told myself that I—you were better off without me, but—”

“Noo,” she whispered, nuzzling him. “You are my strength,” she breathed against his cheek. “You are my joy. My lover. My friend. My everything. Do not condemn me to a half-life without you. For without you I shall never be whole.”

With a strangled cry he rose up and captured her in his arms, rolling her over on her back, covering her as she sighed with contentment beneath him. He kissed her in earnest, tears glistening in his long lashes, his face naked with raw emotion as he plundered her mouth, and she tasted his sadness, his joy and his despair as he moved against her.

“One way or another my love, I will have to leave your side someday. I am—”

“Shhhhh…” she put her finger against his lips, her own tears running. “Please my love. Do not speak those words. I cannot bear it. I cannot!” She pulled him down and ravished him with her kiss, scraping her own face mercilessly against the sharp rasp of his day old beard as she devoured his beautiful lips. “I need to feel you inside of me,” she whispered. “Now. Please oh God please William!”

With a ragged cry he pushed her knees wide apart, but instead of filling her, he slid farther down the bed.

“Where are you going?” She asked in shock. “William?”

He raised up and kissed her, his eyes heavy lidded. “Lie back.” He kissed his way down and over her breasts, down still further.

Victoria squirmed in shock. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer; he just purred as his lips found…found…

“Oh dear GOD!” Victoria threw her head back against the pillow, her eyes wide with shock and her breath stolen quite away from her body. She raised her head and gazed down her body in wonder to see his dark head bent to his task, a look of rapture on his face. Slowly she reached her trembling hands down to him, wound her fingers in his hair and threw her own head back again. She had no idea what he was doing to her. But she felt in turn his lips, his teeth, his tongue, even his nose as the wildest, strongest pleasure she’d ever imagined began to build inside of her.

She moaned and called his name, feeling the puff of his breath against her ravished body as he laughed.

“That’s it,” he whispered, nuzzling, “let go, my love. Let it come.”

Her hips bucked against him as he continued what he was about, growling deep in his throat with pleasure as he worked her into the greatest frenzy she’d ever felt.

“Come to me, my Victoria,” he whispered against her, “Oh my love, you are so beautiful this way…”

She screamed as her climax took her, wracking her body with wave after wave after wave, as he stayed calmly where he was, not moving, not even bloody stopping!

When he did finally stop what he was doing, he raised his eyes to her and blinded her with the most smug, self-satisfied, insouciant boyish grin she had ever seen him wear.

“Your Majesty,” he purred, “are you quite okay?”

She was incoherent. She nodded and squealed at the same time.

He rose over her, chuckling.

“Well then.” He smiled into her eyes and brushed the hair back from her face, his eyes full of love and darkened with desire. “If you enjoyed that half as much as I did, I’d call that a success.” He planted his amazing lips onto her forehead and she trembled. “You have no idea how often I’ve fantasized about doing that to you…Ma’am.”

She was still beyond words. She could only whimper as she gasped for breath. He smiled all the more.

 

* * *

 

They stayed together in their room for most of the day. After the midday meal, William called for a tub to be sent up for Victoria to take a bath. She had never had such an amazing bath before. No more modesty cloths, no maids, no dressers. Just her…

And him.

If his hands had felt amazing on her body before, that was nothing to how they felt on her wet body. He’d scrubbed her back, washed her hair, washed and massaged and kissed her all over, and finally when neither of them could stand it anymore, he’d joined her in the wooden tub.

Making love with William in water was one of Victoria’s new favorite pastimes.

Then when they’d mopped up the floor and she was covered, he called for a refill of water and Victoria indulged herself in washing and scrubbing him—all over his majestic, masculine body.

“There was a time when I fantasized about your touch endlessly,” he had whispered, eyes opening just slightly to regard her from beneath luxurious lashes. “And when we danced, your hand on my arm sent fire through my veins. Do you remember the night of your coronation ball, Ma’am? When you seized me by the lapels and pulled me close, my heart almost stopped. I wanted so badly to wrap my arms around you and kiss you senseless. To secret you away to some darkened corner and do far, far more. I knew then it was pointless to deny what I felt for you any longer. For weeks after that, I could not stop dreaming about your little hands on my coat. On my arm. On my chest. On my—”

Victoria gave him a wicked grin and reached into the water.

“Ohhh yes! Just there.” His eyes fluttered closed again, as he lay back farther in the tub, repositioning himself brazenly to give her easier access, a cherubic smile on his beautiful mouth. “Bloody hell, I love you, woman.” He whispered, reaching a wet hand out of the water and pulling her face down to his, kissing her sweetly, lazily. “Come here to me.”

“But I just dried off,” she said, giggling. “I have to get dressed sometime, my darling.”

“Damn getting dressed.” He deepened the kiss, and Victoria shivered, a shock of excitement sizzling low in her belly.

“We just finished.”

“I don’t care,” he reached down and stilled her hand on him. “I need you. My love…my perfect, beautiful love…I need to be inside of you. Please.”

Victoria shed her shift and climbed in.

* * *

 

“We really must get on,” she said, sometime later, laying against his chest as he caressed her shoulder lightly. They had gone from the tub back to the bed sometime ago, and the room was wet again with the remains of his bathwater this time. “We need to clean this up and get dressed or we shall be late to dinner at the palace.”

“Mmmhmm,” was his only reply.

“William,” she kissed his chest. “Oh William I wish we did not have to go.”

“So do I. I could be quite content to spend the rest of my life in this little inn, making endless love to you morning, noon and night.”

“I wish we could too. I know the moment we leave this place I shall long to be in your arms, again. And she will probably whisk you away the moment we appear and I shall sleep alone tonight.”

“Not if I can help it,” he whispered.

“What do you mean?” She raised her head to look at him.

“I mean to wake next to you tomorrow morning, Victoria. And every morning hereafter, for the rest of our lives.”

“But…” she sat up. “The Queen--”

“--Shall not prevent us,” he rose next to her and kissed her gently. “I simply cannot bear to be without you ever again. Besides,” he trailed the back of his fingers down her arm, his eyes following their progress then rising to hers again, giving her a crooked smile. “I neglected to mention, Ma’am, that my appetites are quite…substantial. And now that I have tasted you…I am a ravenous beast.” He kissed her again. “These last few days, wonderful as they have been can never be enough for me.  You may yet regret ever wakening me to you.”

“Never,” she shook her head adamantly, melting at his declaration. “I am ravenous for you too. I always have been. I always shall be.”

“Then do not fret my love. We will find a way,” he caressed her face as he kissed her. “If we are discreet, I see no reason why we cannot continue.”

“But if someone should find us—”

“That is why we will be discreet.” He kissed the tip of her nose, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Trust me, Victoria,” he whispered. “We shall be careful. But God help me, I cannot lose you now.”

“Nor I you,” she took his head in her hands and kissed his eyebrows, his eyelids, his nose and cheeks, his jaw and finally his mouth.

He seized her mouth with the zeal of a starving man and Victoria moaned against him.

“How will I ever survive the next few hours?” She asked as he kissed down her jaw, seizing her earlobe between his teeth, her head lolling to the side. “Already I feel I shall lose my mind if I cannot have you. This very instant. How will I survive the ride to the castle, and dinner with the Queen? To say nothing of waiting for you afterward!” His lips were down her neck now, feasting on her throat. “Oh God, Lord M!”

He moaned and pushed her backwards on the bed. “Do you have any idea what it does to me when you call me Lord M in bed?  It makes me crazed.  Once more,” he grated, between kisses, already in position. "I have to have you once more."

“Oh yes!  Now!” She called from between gritted teeth. She wanted him so badly! So badly! In a few hours they would be there before her throne, he would be walking away and she would not be able to follow…

He thrust inside of her and she growled. She felt defiant. Angry. “I want it hard and fast,” she ground out, “I want to feel every bit of you!”

“Not fast,” he said, panting, “not yet. I am not ready for it to be over so soon.”

“But the time—”

“I—don’t—give—a damn—about the—damned—bloody—sodding--time!” He thrust so hard Victoria cried out and dug her nails in his shoulders.

“No nails. No—evidence, my love. Though I would have you rake me from head to toes if I could!”

“Dear God YESSS!” She threw her head back, writhing, long past any pretense of dignity with him. They were finally, only, man and woman. No age gap. No station gap. No damn gaps of any damn kind between them! “WILLIAM!!”

His cry was so raw, so sexual and so elemental it shot straight through her, fluttering along her spine so exquisitely she could not stop her reaction.

Clinging to him, she echoed his cry from somewhere, deep inside of her as her climax slammed into her hard, triggering his own response. He could never hold on when she was coming. She brought him every time.

When it was over they both lay gasping and trembling, weak, spent, and wholly unable to function, let alone dress themselves for dinner.

“We…must…stop,” she gasped. “Or we shall arrive cross-eyed and swaying to this dinner and everyone shall know what we have been doing all this time.”

He snorted a laugh, weakly, and rolled his face to take her breast into his mouth. She threw her head back and bit her lip. Dear God, but he felt good!

He released her with a soft pop, smiling sweetly, mischievously up at her. “Perhaps they will just think us drunk, Ma’am. And so we are, after a fashion.”

“Entirely,” she said, winding her hands weakly in his hair and then dropping away from him. “I feel weak as a kitten. However shall I manage to stand, let alone anything else!”

He seemed entirely undisturbed by her revelation, and was rubbing his face back and forth between her breasts, the stubble of his beard pleasantly rasping her tender skin.

“God you’ve got the loveliest breasts in the world. So plump and soft and round,” he said, teasing the other one and pulling it into his mouth, giving it the same, luscious treatment he did the first one.

“Lord M,” she said weakly.

“Yes…Ma’am?” He gave her a wicked grin.

She shivered and batted at him with her noodly arms. “Stop that! You’re making it worse.”

“Making what worse?”

“I am struggling to rise from this bed and dress for this evening. It is getting late and yet here we lay. In completely decadent dishabille.”

“Do you know how I have fantasized about doing this?” He covered one with his hands and kneaded it idly. “Never thought I’d ever have the chance. I just want to worship them properly before you have to put them away again.”

She giggled. “I’m becoming quite shocked at your long list of fantasies, Lord M. It is making me look back on our entire acquaintance with very different eyes. I simply had no notion you thought of me in such a wickedly familiar way.”

“That was on purpose,” he said. “I could hardly come up to you and tell you to your face how much I wanted to fondle your breasts, could I?”

She laughed, and stroked his hair. “I wish I had known. We would have done this a lot sooner.”

“Well. Its just as well we didn’t. It would have brought on no end of scandal.”

“Rightly so,” she said smiling. “The things you do to me and with me are quite scandalous, my darling Lord M. And I love every single one of them.”

“As I love every single scandalous thing you do to me too, Your Majesty,” he whispered with a grin, and kissed her thoroughly.

“So I guess we have had a criminal conversation,” she said, when they broke away.

“We are hell and gone past criminal conversation, Ma’am,” he nuzzled her, chuckling.

Victoria kissed him, pulled him on top of her again. She told him in no uncertain terms of her affection, love and devotion with her lips, her hands, her body.

“God in heaven!” he roared, tearing himself from her and running a hand through his unruly locks. “Damnation. We really must get on, mustn’t we?”

“Mmmm,” Victoria followed him, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzled her face into his neck. “But you are ready again. And so am I.”

“I am always ready for you,” he whispered. “But we must not be late to dinner at the palace. We must dress and leave this place.” He cupped her face with his hand. “No matter what transpires this evening, I shall find you tonight. Then My Love, we shall make up for lost time.” He kissed her deeply, infusing her with promise as he gently disentangled himself from her arms, kissing both hands reverently as he returned them to her.

Victoria sighed.  He was right.  And no amount of pretending they did not have to report to Elizabeth very soon would change the facts.  And as to the rest of it, she would hold him to his promise. That alone would have to sustain her now. Kissing his beautiful, beloved face again, she ran her hands over his features, trying to drink him in, enough to see her through the next few hours.

"Do not distress yourself," he said gently.  "We shall make it through this, and be together again on the other side."  He looked down on her with such beautiful, glowing eyes that it occurred to Victoria that he was genuinely happy, and that at least in some part was due to her.  He gazed softly at her and stroked her cheek. “Come, My Love. We must make ourselves ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers, I tried. Seriously I did. But these two would not be budged. Nor would they let me carry on telling the story until they'd had another romp. And I'm so fond of them together that I let them have their way. Next chapter takes them on to Whitehall, and it will be appearing very soon!


	15. Chapter 15--Sweet Child of Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord M and Victoria arrive at Whitehall, and are met with a few surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “She's got eyes of the bluest skies  
> As if they thought of rain  
> I'd hate to look into those eyes  
> And see an ounce of pain
> 
> Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place  
> Where as a child I'd hide  
> And pray for the thunder and the rain  
> To quietly pass me by…
> 
> …Where do we go?  
> Sweet child o' mine  
> Where do we go now?”
> 
> (”Sweet Child of Mine”, Guns and Roses, 1987.)

Chapter 15—Sweet Child of Mine

 

 

It had been a most difficult journey. Victoria’s beautiful face had looked like a funeral, her gentle, sky blue eyes filled with tears she was too dignified to shed. Melbourne had watched her call upon every last ounce of her natural grace and poise, gifted to her by her long royal bloodlines, and wrap it around her narrow shoulders like a cloak as she steeled herself for what in her mind, felt like a firing squad.

Indeed it did to him, too.

Their night had passed so quickly, and yet been so full. He’d made good use of the time and loved her far more than he’d thought he was capable of at his age, but then something about Victoria made him feel half of that. With her he was young and vigorous.

He snorted derisively. Something, indeed.

Like love.

She’d been so utterly beautiful, clad as she was in a traveling gown of deep green, and so very brave as they had sailed down the Thames to their fate. His heart had swelled to overflowing watching the rigid line of her ramrod straight back, the elegant lift of her chin, the firm resolve in her eyes. God it had made him want her all the more. He’d wanted at once to pull her into his arms, to kiss her deeply, to take the whole of her pain onto himself, anything to see the storm clouds clear from her eyes, and watch the sun come out in them again. He hated feeling that he had caused her suffering.

They had arrived, been informed they were expected, and ushered into a receiving room. Lord Melbourne’s heart had skipped a beat to be greeted by Sir William Cecil himself. So distracted by their personal drama, William had almost forgotten the unbelievable opportunity they had been given to walk inside of England’s own history, to rub shoulders with figures he’d only ever studied in books and admired from a comfortably detached distance of three hundred years. To suddenly be standing in a room with one of Elizabeth I’s most trusted and valued ministers made his scholar’s heart beat faster.

In person, Sir William did not seem overly impressive. He was a man of normal stature and build, and in the flesh did not look overtly legendary. Melbourne’s first impression had been that the man did bear a marked resemblance to his portraits, albeit a little more careworn, and with a rigidity of posture and a sharpness of eye that instantly let Melbourne know that Cecil regarded him with caution and suspicion, and perhaps a little protectiveness that reminded him strongly of himself where Victoria was concerned. His appreciation of the man instantly rose. Cecil’s loyalty, and love, were entirely Elizabeth’s. A virtue that did him credit.

“Sir,” Cecil bowed stiffly. “Her Majesty bids me welcome you, and the Viscountess Alexandrina, to Whitehall Palace and to her Court. She bids me tell you that she has been expecting and anticipating your arrival with great eagerness, and looks forward to your attendance at this evening’s meal. Dining will be in the royal banquet hall, beginning sharply at eight. Her Majesty is fond of dancing, and so there will be music and dance following the meal. She bids you both attend her promptly.”

“I thank you, Sir William. Please inform Her Majesty that the Viscountess and I are delighted to attend.”

Sir William bowed graciously. “In that case, I am to show you to your chambers, and see you comfortably settled. If you would be so good as to follow me.”

They had followed, and to William’s complete astonishment and delight, they had been assigned a set of adjoining apartments, handsomely furnished, with a shared sitting room in between, connected to each other with interior doors.

“Her Majesty wishes you to be comfortably able to attend to your guardianship duties regarding your young kinswoman,” Sir William explained, “And hopes you will find these rooms suitable for you both.”

“Indeed they are, Sir William,” Melbourne had managed to say, “They are very finely appointed. Please convey to Her Majesty our very sincere thanks and appreciation for her…thoughtfulness.”

Sir William bowed, and Melbourne secretly offered up his thanks to the heavens for their provision, and to Victoria, who currently stood at a window with her back to Sir William Cecil. Though Victoria had many talents, lying was not necessarily one of them. It would not do for Sir William to see the delight stamped on her features that he was certain must be there. Far better for him to take over the diplomatic necessities at this.

“Your effects will be delivered up shortly. The room on the left is designated for the Viscountess, and the room on the right is yours, Sir. The Viscountess has been assigned a ladies maid who will assist with unpacking and attend her tonight.”

“Again, please convey our very great thanks to Her Majesty,” William gestured in a futile attempt to express his gratitude. “This is most generous.”

Sir William Cecil bowed, giving Melbourne a jaundiced eye, and left them alone.

He could see the rapid rise and fall of her beautiful breasts from over her shoulder. She did not turn around to face him from the window, but he knew she could feel his approach.

Her breath caught when his hands landed on her shoulders, and his blood stirred as he felt her body grow pliant and unresisting in his hands. He kissed the top of her head, and she fell back against him.

“Oh William,” she breathed. “Can it be true?”

“I confess I did not expect for her to make it so easy for us,” he whispered in her ear and kissed the shell of it softly. “But do not say too much too loudly just yet.”

She turned a quizzical eye to him. “But are we not alone?”

“Possibly,” he whispered. “But this is her palace, and she has assigned us rooms. We are by no means secure just yet.”

“You think someone might be listening?” She whispered.

“And possibly watching,” he breathed into her ear and moved away from her. He spent the next several minutes lifting every tapestry, examining every surface and panel for listening and viewing holes. Victoria, after watching him, began a search of her own. The two of them covered the shared sitting room but discovered nothing. William knew they were on a mid-level floor though, and both the floor and ceiling still concerned him. Particularly the latter, as it was patterned and inaccessibly high indeed. Nothing short of a ladder would enable him to inspect it. Unless…

He took her by the elbow, and escorted her into her room. A once over in there proved just as fruitless. He heaved a sigh.

“Are we quite safe?” she asked quietly.

“I know not. There is the ceiling to consider.”

“But surely not in here?”

“I would like to think not, which is why we are standing here. I think it would be foolish to assume that we are safe in our drawing room, until I have had the opportunity of investigating the room above ours for holes in the floor.”

“You mean you think—?” Victoria looked up.

“I know nothing for sure. But I do know that Mary was paranoid. As was Henry. Which they had a right to be. As does Elizabeth. There were spies aplenty during their reigns, often right under their very noses, inside the palace.  These royal residences generally have more holes than walls. But perhaps here in your bedchamber, there are none. I am hoping that they have at least that much decency to protect some modicum of your privacy.”

“But how can we be sure?” Victoria looked about herself, hugging her arms across her body, eyes wide with concern.

“We cannot. Not entirely,” he took her very deliberately into his arms. “We can be careful, but we cannot be certain. But even so, what a splendid gift, do you not think so?”

“Unless it is a trap.” Her eyes flashed as she looked at him. “I do not trust her,” she mouthed, the barest sound escaping her lips.

“No more you should,” he whispered to her ear. “But never voice that sentiment again. Not unless we are quite away from here.”

She nodded.

“Alexandrina,” he breathed in her ear.

She closed her eyes and shivered. “I hate that name…unless you are speaking it.”

He smiled. “I must call it to you, you know. Even in private.”

“Yes I know.”

“And you must accustom yourself to harking to it.”

“Yes.” Her eyes were closed, and she was shivering, but not with cold. He felt it too. What it was between them, simmering, barely contained, threatening to boil over at any moment. It was the most extraordinary passion he’d ever felt. The almighty need he had to be touching her, to have his lips on her somewhere, anywhere, everywhere…to bury himself inside her hot, tight body, to brand himself so deep in her heart that no man could ever supplant him.

“We must wait until it is dark,” he whispered, hoarse with need, “In case there is a hole in here somewhere, we will at least have darkness to cover us.”

“I cannot bear to be so close to you and not have you touch me,” she whispered, a tremor in her voice.

Heat shot straight through him and he felt his groin stir.

“Tonight,” he whispered, “I promise it shall be worth the wait.”

He kissed her on her head in the most avuncular pose he could manufacture under the circumstances, and turned to leave.

“No,” she said, clasping his hand, a sudden look of panic streaking across her features. “Don’t leave me. It will be the first time I shall be without you since we arrived here and…I am…” she could not bring herself to say the word he saw written plainly on her features.

His beautiful, proud, brave little Queen.

“I shall be in my room,” he reassured her. “Quite close. I shall not leave without telling you I am going.” He kissed her forehead again. “Come and find me if you need me,” he whispered, “although I imagine your room is more private than mine. Do not speak of anything other than what is safe when you do.” He stepped away and in a louder voice he said, “Get some rest, Viscountess. I am quite sure you will desire to be at your full strength later.” With a grin and a reassuring wink that he was pleased to see settled her a little, he forced himself to turn and leave her room.

 

* * *

 

A ladies maid named Bettina was assigned to help her ready herself for the evening’s entertainments. She was grateful for the assistance, being so unused to the fashion of this day. But not even dressing for dinner at Queen Elizabeth’s invitation did much to distract her from thoughts of Lord M, and of everything they had shared.

Had they really only been here, in this time, for a few days? Her life as Queen seemed like a dream to her now. He so dominated her senses she could not remember a time when they were not lovers…when she had last slept alone.

True, he had promised to visit her tonight. But what if the Queen demanded otherwise?

How had things gotten to be such a hopeless mess?

She banged her hands on the table suddenly, startling poor Bettina into dropping her hair pins. She apologized and reassured her that she was not displeased with the job she was doing, then carried on with her gloomy thoughts.

What would she do when she saw the queen flirt with Lord M all evening? For that is what she was sure Elizabeth would do. And Lord M would be obliged to accept her attentions with a good approximation of return.

Victoria sat numbly through her ladies maid’s ministrations, until the girl opened a small container full of vile smelling white liquid and began dipping a brush into it.

“N-no. I’m sorry,” Victoria said, stopping the girl before she could touch the horrid concoction to her face. “I know its fashionable. But…where I come from, women do not wear face paint.”

“Oh but…milady! It is what all fashionable ladies wear at Court! You will see tonight—you will be the only one not wearing it!”

“That is fine. I am not a lady of fashion. I’m far simpler, I’m afraid.”

“But,” the maid looked over her shoulder fearfully, “Her Majesty expects all of her ladies to wear it! And I am charged with making sure you look your best!”

“I assure you,” Victoria said, frowning at the now-dripping brush of disgusting paint, “I will make sure that everyone who asks knows this was my decision, and you were most insistent in fulfilling your duties. But nothing short of tying me to my chair and forcing it upon me will make me change my mind. If that means I am unfashionable, so be it.”

“Well…Milady…perhaps some rouge? Or some reddening of the lips?”

“No thank you. I am perfectly content to be my hideously natural self.” Perhaps as such, she thought rather desperately, no man of this time would fancy her and that would leave her ready for Lord M, when ever he could ask for her.

“Milady, begging your pardon, but she will not like it! You do not want to risk her wrath upon you! I have seen it, it is most terrible!” The poor girl was frightened out of her wits, and wringing her hands to such a degree that Victoria was tempted to acquiesce. Only her memory of being told that this paint did great harm to a lady’s complexion kept her firm in her resolve.

“I thank you, Bettina, for your kindness in trying to save me, but it is a risk I am prepared to take. I find such fashionable endeavors very charming on other women, but I detest the thought of it on me. I cannot abide things on my face. I…such things as this make my skin itch, and it is all quite disagreeable.” Perhaps that would settle it.

“Ah. Yes well, I have heard of such things,” Bettina said with resignation. “Perhaps in that case, Her Majesty will make an allowance.”

“Yes well, it is hardly worth putting on if I am going to scratch it off again later anyway. And it leaves streaks down my face…the effect, as well as the feeling, is quite horrid.”

There was a knock on her outer door, and she dismissed Bettina to answer it. Bettina returned with a posy of flowers and a note.

“A secret admirer?” Victoria turned over the paper announcing this fact, puzzled. The handwriting was not William’s frantic scrawl. She sniffed. Nor was he in the habit of perfuming his correspondence. “How very curious,” she said, and held the dainty bouquet of fresh pink sweetheart roses to her nose. “Very fragrant too.” She held them out for Bettina to sniff, and the girl did so with pleasure. “Have you any idea who sent them?” She asked her maid, who obviously shook her head no. But her pursed lips and intense focus on Victoria’s hair said otherwise. “I cannot work it out. I don’t know anyone here except my cousin William, and this isn’t his hand.”

The posy was small enough that it was clearly meant to be worn. She shrugged. It was harmless enough surely, for her to accept? Besides, it might be some consolation to her vanity, considering how much she was not looking forward to the evening’s events. Since she had seen fit to refuse the make up offered her, it would perhaps be most unwise to refuse this gift of goodwill and welcome as well. And it was much more to her taste, in any case.

After finishing her hair, Victoria had the girl attach the posy to her dress, just in the center of her bodice. She viewed her reflection in the tiny hand mirror with as much satisfaction as she could, considering she had to look at herself in bits. Most frustrating. She dismissed Bettina with her thanks and went to the adjoining rooms in search of Lord M.

He was sitting at the writing desk nearest the window, one long, hosed leg casually resting against the opposite knee, gazing out onto the courtyard beyond. He wore a doublet of dark blue velvet, slashed with burgundy through sleeve and torso, with pants and codpiece to match. His slouch hat was burgundy topped with a large peacock feather that swept the circumference of his head and set off his chiseled profile to perfection.

He looked so magnificent in his Tudor clothing Victoria gasped and felt her heart sink into her shoes. He could have been fashioned for this era. He was so achingly beautiful she was sure the Queen would be eating out of his outstretched hand by midnight. How would she bear having to watch?

He turned when he heard her approach, and quickly jumped to his feet.

His eyes roved over her in a most satisfactorily hungry way that went a long way to reassuring her.

“Viscountess! You look…radiant,” he finished in a husky tone.

“You look well too…Cousin,” she managed to choke out.

“Making conquests already I see,” he pointed to her posy, his eyes flickering with something like pain.

“Then you for sure did not send it?”

“No I did not. I should wish for my greenhouse at Brocket Hall that I could shower you with orchids, but alas I am unable to do so.”

“These cannot match your orchids, Cousin.”

“No. But they are very pretty rosettes, nonetheless.” He smiled sadly into her eyes.

“They were marked from a secret admirer. I cannot think who, for I have not yet met anyone.”

“Perhaps the Queen is already working to find you a husband.”

“Then why the secrecy? Surely a potential suitor with the Queen’s approval would announce himself openly.”

“Perhaps if I were to see the note, I might be of some assistance?”

“Of course.” She retrieved it from her dressing table and presented it into his hand.

Right away he sniffed the paper, marking the perfume. His eyes were grave when he returned it to her. “I’d say be on your guard.”

“Do you know who sent it?”

“Not for sure. But I can guess at one man at least, who would want to keep his admiration for the Queen’s newest lady a secret. Or at least indulge in the game of it.” He gave her a significant look.

Her heart sped up. “Oh surely not.”

“He could have been present yesterday when we were presented.”

“There was a man…when we left I noticed him. He had very expressive eyes, and he was staring at me quite intently while we were leaving.” She left out the fact he was achingly handsome.

“If he is who I think he might be, he is not to be trusted, Viscountess. If he gets you in his arms, he will not hold back. You will become his next conquest. Men like him are only interested in the game. Once he has won, he will drop you and move on.”

“You sound angry.”

“I am not angry.”

“Are you…jealous?” she whispered the word.

“Of course I am, “ he whispered softly. “Just the thought…” he took a deep breath. “But it’s more than that. I’ve met his type before.”

“Anyone I know?”

“No, I can’t say you’re likely to have the opportunity. I was thinking of Lord Byron.”

“I see,” she said, and began tugging at her bodice.

“What are you doing, Alexandrina?” William’s eyes went wide.

“Getting rid of this hideous thing. I’ll wear no such tokens from a man such as he.”

“Leave it,” he placed his hands on top of hers, stilling them, humor and tenderness in his eyes. “It will be a slight that we cannot afford for you not to wear it.” He took a deep breath and smiled into her eyes. “But the sentiment is much appreciated.”

“You look very handsome, Cousin,” she said, with a slight tremor in her voice. “I am sure the Queen will be most attentive to you.”

“And I shall endure her attentions the way you do your admirer’s. We shall both have to be strong tonight.” He touched her cheek. “But only for a time.”

She leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. “I am ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps this chapter should have been titled "Welcome to the Jungle"...


	16. Chapter 16--Change Partners (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and Lord M make their debut appearance at Court. And Victoria's admirer makes himself known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “All of the ladies attending the ball  
> Are requested to gaze in the faces  
> Found on the dance cards
> 
> Please then remember  
> And don't get too close to one special one  
> He will take your defenses and run
> 
> So we change partners  
> Time to change partners  
> You must change partners  
> Again…”
> 
> (”Change Partners”, Stephen Stills, 1971).

Chapter 16—Change Partners (Part 1)

 

William led her in on his arm, holding her well away from his body in the fashion of the day as they arrived in the royal banquet hall.

The Queen glanced up immediately when their entrance was announced, making his heart sink.

_Damn-damn-damn and double damn._

She fancied him. There was no question in his mind.

While it had been pleasurable for Victoria to look at him that way, Elizabeth made him long for his old 19th century breeches back in place of the tight-fitting Tudor hose and outrageous codpiece, and a convenient Bryon-style cloak behind which he could disappear.

Or perhaps a full suit of armor.

Not that Elizabeth was an unattractive woman in her own right. Tonight, she wore a regal purple gown and glittered from head to toe with diamonds and rich, dark rubies and amethyst. She was a stunning woman, but she was not his Victoria. His heart and his body were no longer his own. And therefore, Elizabeth I held no charm for him.

Her Majesty rose, crossed the floor to him in a whisper of silk skirts with her hand outstretched and a smile on her reddened lips. He released Victoria’s hand with reluctance and a gentle, reassuring squeeze before dropping to one knee, taking the hand presented to him and kissing the ring of the current monarch. He rose slowly, keeping his eyes cast down, thinking absently that back in his own time, Victoria had a gown of a similar color, and how it looked so much better on her.

“William--Our Lamb--is here,” the Queen smiled.

He bowed again, inwardly cringing. She’d given him a pet name, which she was famous for doing with all of her suitors and favorites.

“Your Majesty,” he replied politely.

“And your little cousin. The Viscountess,” she turned her attention to Victoria. “We would have your name again, Viscountess.”

“I am called Alexandrina, Your Majesty. Drina to my friends and family.”

“Drina. That’s right. We remember now. Oh, but did you not receive our gift?”

“Gift, Your Majesty?”

“Yes. We sent over our special supply of cosmetics, so you would not feel so—out of place—in our Court. You see, all of our ladies wear it. It is the latest English fashion.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I did receive it, along with the very excellent ladies-maid you so thoughtfully provided for me. But unfortunately, wearing anything on my face makes my skin itch abominably, and brings on whelps and sores. I fear I am unable to wear it, and thus shall always be unfashionable. I hope Your Majesty may excuse me, and still permit me in your presence thus unadorned, though it makes me much the plainer.” She curtsied deeply.

“Oh. Well, how very sad indeed. Especially for one with such…dark…features. Well. Of course, Viscountess, we forgive you. Though we have heard of such afflictions, we have never met anyone so unfortunate as to possess it. Perhaps it is a Prussian disposition.”

“Perhaps so, Your Majesty. I do deeply apologize, and pray I have not offended you.”

“Of course you have not offended! You cannot help such things, after all. Therefore there is no need for apology. We do not wish you to become ill and disfigured. That would be quite…opposite…our intentions. And anyway…what delightful flowers. It seems our anxiety on your behalf has been unfounded. For you have found an admirer among our Court already.”

William sensed the danger immediately. He glanced anxiously at her, praying she sensed the sudden chill in the air as well.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. The giver of them would not reveal himself. I wore them this evening in the hopes you might enlighten me as to his identity. I have no notion of how I have earned such a token. I know no one here.”

He was so proud of Victoria’s poise that his heart almost burst. She was so Queenly, so regal. So adept at such matters. Two great Queens together. William would have found the conversation fascinating was he not so worried about the outcome.

The Queen laughed, a sound like the tinkling of silver bells, and William could sense that she had decided to forgive Victoria. He relaxed marginally.

“We? Enlighten you? My dear Viscountess, we have no idea! How amusing to have a secret admirer already at Court! It would seem that on the strength of one audience, you are already making conquests. How splendid! At this rate, you shall be married, we are sure, by Michaelmas.” She chucked Victoria under the chin with a show of patronizing affection. Victoria bowed deferentially.

William’s guts clenched. He was sure Elizabeth knew where the flowers had come from. And it was not good news. He swallowed hard. He was going to have to work fast if he was to curry enough favor with Elizabeth to earn himself some means of supporting Victoria. Or they didn’t have a prayer. Especially since Victoria refused, quite rightly, to wear the hideous face paint the other women wore. It made her a thousand times more conspicuously beautiful. She could not help but be a refreshing breath of fresh air to any man who gazed upon her. His heart squeezed in his chest as if pressed in a vice. How could he hope to hold her—how could he hope to win her—under these circumstances?

He risked one glance at her and immediately lowered his eyes. He should not have done it. The pain and anxiety that flashed in her beautiful blue eyes threatened to kill him outright.

_I’m sorry, My Love. Forgive me for what I must do._

“Come, Our Lamb William,” Elizabeth said, taking his arm and cozying up against him in such a familiar fashion that even William was surprised. “You shall take us in to dine tonight. I am sure now your little cousin will have no difficulty in securing her own partner for the evening. Perhaps indeed, we shall aid her in identifying him, by removing all…obstacles…that would make her suitor feel…shy...about revealing his identity.”

She turned a brilliant, triumphant smile onto Victoria that made his blood boil. He quelled it immediately. It would not do to fly into a fury now. He must keep his wits about him. He was her only salvation. He must not let her down.

Victoria met his eyes once, and he poured all the reassurance he could muster into those few seconds before she lowered her eyes and he was led away. But not before he saw clearly the hurt and fear swimming in them.

It was going to be a very long evening indeed.

* * *

Victoria watched from the corner of her eye as the Queen led William away. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Only the look in William’s eyes as he met her gaze gave her comfort. Queen Elizabeth may be striking, determined and powerful, but the look in his eyes said he had room in his heart for only her.

At least for now.

The other courtiers were pairing up for dinner, but Victoria, bereft of William, was apparently on her own. The thought flashed through her mind that her predecessor had done this deliberately to embarrass her. Something had flashed in her eyes when she’s seen the posy, and Victoria felt more certain than ever that the Queen knew the giver. Perhaps very well.

“Viscountess, may I have the pleasure?”

She turned around and was startled to see a man bowed at the waist before her. He had a very handsome, athletic back, she had time to reflect, before he straightened out and she was met with a pair of sparkling dark eyes in a striking angular face, framed by close cropped hair and a large, jeweled earring dangling from one ear like a pirate. In fact his whole demeanor was slightly piratical, and very dangerous.

He smiled at her then, all white teeth framed by full, sinfully formed lips and a close trimmed mustache and beard. His dark eyes glittered at her in a way that made her blush instantaneously, as if he could see straight through her gown.

Very dangerous indeed.

“I do not believe we’ve been introduced,” she said, straightening up to her full height and canting her head so that she could look down her nose at him with all the disdain and discouragement she could muster, giving him her most detached and regal stare. Lord M’s warning rang in her ears. This man had to be the Tudor-era version of Lord Byron, and she had a sudden, unwelcome sympathy for Caroline Lamb.

“Indeed we have not. Allow me to rectify that situation by introducing myself. I am Sir Robert Dudley, entirely at your service, My Lady.”

She felt like she’d just been hit over the head with a blacksmith’s anvil—so powerful was the impact of his name that she almost staggered.

 _Robert Dudley?_ This _was Robert Dudley?_

No wonder Elizabeth was so taken with him! He was bewitchingly handsome, in an entirely wolfish sort of way. He was younger than William by at least ten years, and his broad shoulders, and the strong lines of his body bespoke the physique of an athlete or a warrior beneath the rich silk and velvet brocade of his Renaissance clothing.

She swallowed hard and gave him her hand to kiss with what she hoped was a show of dispassion and disinterestedness. “Sir Robert,” she said flatly.

“My friends call me Robbie,” he flashed her that dangerous, predatory grin over her hand then allowing his sensuously soft lips to linger just too long against her skin.

Long enough to give her something to think about, which was no doubt his object.

“Doubtless they do, Sir,” she stated pointedly, affecting indifference as she removed her hand from his grasp.

He chuckled. “I would wish very much for you to do so also,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he gave her a wry smile that did nothing to detract from his attractiveness.

“But we are not friends.” She stated archly. She meant to put an end to this flirtation now.

He nodded, blinking several times at her sharp tone, acknowledging her rejection.

“Well. I would like very much to remedy that, Viscountess. Now that we’ve been properly introduced, would you allow me to escort you into dinner?”

“Thank you, but I do not require an escort.”

He looked around dramatically. “Well…I do not mean to contradict you, Viscountess, by any measure, but it would seem your _cousin_ is otherwise engaged, and we have both therefore been rendered without a partner this eve. I can assure you I am not at all a dull dining companion, and will strive to keep you suitably entertained, if you would do me the great honor of favoring me with your company, My Lady?”

The emphasis he placed on the word ‘cousin’ left her uneasy. Had he seen through their ruse? Lord M had been right, she thought. He was charming. Like a snake before it strikes.

“I thank you, no. I prefer to dine alone this evening. If you will excuse me, I find that the move here has left me fatigued, and feeling most unwell. I am certain I will not be a suitable companion for you, Sir, in such a state. I must beg your pardon.” She turned with a curtsy and made for the door.

“Viscountess,” he caught up to her and laid a hand on her arm, whispering, his lips so close to her ear as to almost be touching it. “Begging your pardon, My Lady, but you cannot desert the field of battle now.”

“I am sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean--you take great exception to the Queen’s favoritism toward your cousin, I believe.”

“What an extraordinary notion.”

“Not to one with such a practiced eye. If you will permit me,” he whispered so closely against her ear that she could feel his lips graze her skin, and his warm breath brought her out in gooseflesh. “I believe I may be of assistance to you.”

His gaze was as intense as it was direct. She was almost tempted to believe him. He was the sort of man indeed, who could make any woman feel like she was the sole object of his desire. No wonder Elizabeth had been so in love with him. Little wonder also that the legend of this man and his prowess had also outlived him, so that three hundred years in the future, he remained one of the most captivating figures of his day.

Heavens, was he really like Lord Byron, she wondered? Had this been the sort of man who had taken Caroline from Lord M?

He winked at her and flashed her that roguish smile again. “Trust me, Viscountess. I believe together we can turn the Queen’s eye.”

“Sir Robert,” she said arching a disapproving eyebrow at him, and addressing him in her most Queen-like voice. “I do not require assistance in the way you seem to suppose. I will permit you to accompany me in to dine, provided that you cease this overly familiar behavior. Where I come from, gentlemen do not accost ladies in this way unless they have the lowest of intentions. If you are entertaining any ideas of the sort, I can assure you that your efforts are entirely misplaced.”

He bowed to her again, not quite hiding his amusement in the process.

“I beg your pardon, Viscountess. No offense was intended I assure you. I give you my most solemn pledge. May I?”

“You may.” She gazed frostily at his proffered arm but did not move to accept it. He lowered it and conceded to walk along beside her without touching, still entirely too amused for Victoria’s taste.

When they entered the banquet hall, most of the Court was already seated and in process of dining. Victoria looked around herself, a momentary sense of delight flooding her. It was so gloriously medieval! But then she saw Elizabeth was seated on a dais at a long table facing the archway they had just come through, with Lord M seated at her right hand, looking more elegant and handsome than any man had the right to look, his glorious legs casually crossed again with insouciant grace, as if dining with queens was an everyday occurrence for him.

Which, she supposed, it was.

He was so handsome her heart lurched in her chest, her mouth went dry and she was momentarily robbed of breath.  _Her_ Lord M.  _Hers._   But he didn't feel like hers at the moment, seated at the side of another woman--another Queen. 

He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself with Elizabeth, smiling and nodding at her conversation.  And as for the Queen she could barely stop herself from touching him—his arm, his hand, his shoulder, his face. Tracing the line of his peacock feathered hat with her fingers as if he quite belonged to her.

Her blood boiled. He had not even noticed she’d entered the room! 

Tears threatened. She was being ridiculous, she told herself furiously.  Totally childish and ridiculous.  All the things they had done and said to one another...that was what was real.  This was just a pretense.

Wasn't it?

“Viscountess, you are staring.” Dudley whispered, too close to her once again.

Her attention returned with a snap. She gave her dinner partner a nod she hoped was imperious, and then allowed him to lead her to a table very much in view of the Queen’s.

He assisted her to sit, and then began to serve her plate. Their backs were to the royal dais, which was all the better as far as she was concerned. The Queen would no doubt have his head in her lap and be feeding him grapes with her bare hands next. 

She had a sudden, unwelcome image  his beautiful lips wrapping around her fingers…. Her blood boiled again as her heart threatened to stop altogether under the strain of it. She couldn’t bear to watch.  It was best to face the opposite wall.

Her dinner partner straddled the bench, one leg to either side, and scooted far too close to her for comfort, especially when his legs were spread wide between them. Victoria forced herself to look only at his eyes, which were disconcerting enough, without any added anatomical distractions. It was admittedly not easy in this age where men’s fashions so accentuated that part of themselves as to draw the eye of even the most casual passerby, and she was newly aware of just how pleasurable that particular part of a man could be. She felt her cheeks flaming with the direction of her thoughts alone.

“Thank you, Sir Robert, but I am perfectly capable of selecting my own dinner.”

He ceased with a nod, still looking incredibly amused, and handed her the plate he’d been filling for her and helped himself to his own plate.

“I see you received my message,” he said casually, pulling roasted meat from the bone with his bare fingers and then licking them before turning in her direction.

Unfortunately, her experiences of late were not assisting her in quelling improper thoughts about his fingers, either. She focused her attention hard on her own plate.

“What message, Sir Robert?” She asked, nibbling at a chunk of bread.

“You are wearing my corsage,” he said quietly. “I trust the arrangement brought you pleasure?”

“You sent these?” She said, turning and facing him anyway. “I thought them pretty enough. Though they are not the most elegant I have ever received.”

He laughed out loud at this.

“You find that amusing?” She turned to him again, this time in annoyance.

“I find you amusing, Viscountess. Endlessly amusing. Entrancing, in fact. Might I ask to be so favored with your name? I have given you mine, after all.”

“Alexandrina.” She said flatly, refusing to give him even the shortened version, and silently thankful to Lord M for suggesting she not use her own. She definitely did not want her real name on the lips of this man.

“Alexandrina,” he said slowly, as if tasting the syllables on his tongue. “How very unusual. But it has an elegant, lyrical quality that is very pleasing. What a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman.”

“Sir Robert, I believe I asked you to desist in this familiar manner, and I must remind you, you gave me your solemn pledge. Yet I find you have not honored our agreement.”

“My apologies, Lady Alexandrina,” he said, very close to her ear again. Then, under the table, she felt a large male hand land hotly on her knee. And begin to massage it through her skirts as he inched himself brazenly higher on her leg. “I have been so blinded by your beauty that I was forgetting myself.”

She looked up at him in astonishment, to find him gazing at her through half-lidded eyes, the way Lord M did when he was…Good God, had she just dropped her eyes to look at his…while he watched her do it?

Robert Dudley slowly grinned at her again--a knowing, predatory grin--and winked.

She turned away from him, mortified. She did not know whom she was most furious with—Robert Dudley, Lord M, Elizabeth or herself. She crumbled the crust of bread in her hands quite into bits on her plate, beginning to feel very much afraid that the situation was rapidly growing out of her control.

Her spine stiffened. Out of her own century or not, she was still a Queen. She grabbed his hand, which had begun massaging it’s way quite too high up her thigh, and shoved it roughly away from herself, scooting as far down the bench as she could without bumping the person next to her.

He followed her, narrowing the space again without even flinching, drawing even closer than before. She was quite neatly trapped now.

“You are delightful,” he whispered in her ear. “The most delightful little breath of fresh air I have felt in these halls in quite a long time.”

She ignored his attempts to draw her back into conversation and turned her attention to her plate, eating furiously.

“And such a…healthy…appetite,” he breathed. “I like to see a woman…satisfy her hungers. Satiate her appetites with such relish.”

Some traitorous part of her anatomy lurched at his words, and heat lanced through her. But her heart and her head were both in agreement that she wanted nothing to do with Robert Dudley. How was he able to stir her so? Guilt, hotter than anything else, began to spread through her. Had she so quickly forsaken the dearest man that had ever lived for this Lothario?

If so, she was no better than Caroline.

She did not deserve him.

“You are blushing, sweet Alexandrina.”

“Not at all. The room is uncommonly warm.”

“You’re doing very well,” he whispered. “We have captured their attention, I think.”

She glanced at him questioningly, feeling more confused than ever. Was this all an act?

He winked again, and grinned. Picking up her goblet, he filled it to the brim with wine from a nearby bottle and offered it to her. “Allow me,” he said, and held it to her lips. She reached out to steady the cup, and her hand landed on his as he poured the liquid into her mouth, until her goblet was quite empty.

“Thank you, that is plenty,” she said, feeling suddenly warm and fuzzy around the edges. She blinked a few times, clearing her vision.

“I don’t know who looks more furious,” he whispered, amusement fizzing in his voice, “the Queen or your cousin.”

“I do not wish either of them to be furious with me,” she said dropping her cup and folding her hands in her lap. She stifled a hiccup, suddenly angry at everything and everyone. How had her life gone so wrong? How had she possibly ended up here?

Her dinner companion could not be more pleased with himself, she thought angrily. How had this happened too? How had he swept in and just ruined her life? She’d probably be in the Tower by the morning, the first Queen in history to be executed before she was even born. And Lord M would find himself in bed with the Virgin Queen at the same moment the ax fell, ruining her virgin status no doubt quite happily in the process.

Something he was quite good at, after all.

That thought, more than all the rest, filled her with fury.

Dudley had already poured more wine in her goblet. She downed that one too. Damn it all anyway, she thought traitorously.

“He is not really your cousin, is he, beauteous Alexandrina?”

“What? Of course he is!”

“But his expression says his feelings for you run far deeper than a mere kinsman’s. And perhaps they are even returned?”

“He is my guardian while I am in this country. If he looks furious it is probably because you are so badly behaved, Sir Robert.”

“Undoubtedly so. But there is more to it than that. I’d wager my soul upon it.”

“Your soul is far too black to be of value in any wager of the sort,” she replied archly.

He laughed again. Heartily and out loud, throwing his head back, white teeth flashing in the candlelight. She felt another rush of heat into her southernmost internal regions. She looked away, confused and furious with herself. How could she possibly feel attracted to this man?

“You are a very accurate judge of character, My Lady,” he said with an ironical bow. “Courage now. Dinner is almost over. There will be dancing tonight. The Queen ordered it specifically I believe, for the pleasure of dancing with your guardian. You will need all your courage for what is to come. I would wager anything she is planning to dance the Volta with him.”

“Anything accept your black soul, you mean?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “since apparently that is not of any value to anyone but me.”

“I wish them joy of each other,” she said darkly, prompting another laugh from her companion.

“Oh no you don’t, dear little Alexandrina! Dear oh dear, I was right, wasn’t I? What a pretty pickle you’ve landed yourself in! You have come to England to marry, I assume, a rich man, in replacement of the one you have so tragically lost. And instead you fall in love with your guardian cousin, who is without lands, income or prospects. And he with you. He brings you to Court, selflessly, to provide for your future by assisting you in making a good match. And finds himself favorite to the Queen, and unable to witness another man so much as flirting with you.” He shook his head, laughing. “Upon my word. A very unhappy turn of affairs, indeed.”

“What an extraordinary story. You have an uncommonly creative imagination, Sir Robert. And an uncommonly forward idea of mere flirting. You are practically sitting in my lap.”  Her heart was beating entirely too quickly.  Whatever else he was, Robert Dudley was uncommonly intelligent, and astute. 

He laughed even louder. “I think I’m in love,” he said, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin upon his hand, gazing at her as if at something he’d never seen before. “Deeply and hopelessly in the most profoundest love imaginable. Do you suppose your guardian would approve if I made an offer for you myself, right here, tonight? You are exquisite, Viscountess. In every way possible, you charm me. I am utterly undone.”

“After the unseemly display you’ve put on tonight, I rather doubt you will be able to secure his permission for anything, much less my hand.”

“Would you accept me, Viscountess?”

“Certainly not.”

“If your heart was not already claimed?”

“No indeed.”

“Then it would seem, I have my work cut out for me.” He smiled softly, ironically. “I begin to envy your cousin,” he said softly, with almost a ring of truth in his words. “Still. You will no doubt have to marry someone soon. You may find that you prefer me to some other suitors who will no doubt wish your consideration. I am not without influence, nor without means. I could make you a very comfortable life, give you children and a fine home, far away from here if you prefer it. Bess generally does not invite wives to court. And will no doubt keep me away from you as well. So it may be a most suitable arrangement--since you do not like me, I will not be near enough to pester you overmuch.You can enjoy all the benefits of marriage to me, without any of the drawbacks."  He smiled a little sadly.

"Therefore please consider my offer a serious one, and entirely open. And though your heart is spoken for, I would like to think that at some time, you could find it in you to at least come to like me. Even a little bit? There are, after all, many such arranged marriages that start with far less and end up becoming far more.” He took her hand in his and kissed it. He lowered it, regarding her thoughtfully without releasing it immediately. “You think me an outrageously forward rogue, do you not?” He sighed. “But I feel anything but that with you."

He stroked her hand, gazing at her earnestly.  "I would be as gentle as a kitten for you. You could be the taming of me, My Lady. Truly.” He smiled almost sweetly as he released her hand at last. “Or not, as you prefer…” Again there was that wolfish smile, but Victoria detected a hint of sadness in it…an almost self-loathing, and she felt something in her stir.

Something like sympathy.  Beneath the bravado and the seduction, Robert Dudley was a lonely man.  She could feel it in him.  Whatever else he may be, his offer was sincerely meant.  

All the more reason why she was very much afraid. Of him. Of herself.  

_Oh William…_ she thought at him frantically. _Why must it always be that we are torn asunder?  
_

“And what of the Queen?” she asked him, shaking off his thrall as best she could and gathering her anger about her again. He wanted to be direct with her? Two could do that.

“What of her?” he said, breaking eye contact with her and taking a drink from his own goblet.

For the first time, she felt something like satisfaction. Aha. The chink in his armor!

He truly did want Elizabeth.

“Oh come now, Sir Robert,” she pursued him relentlessly. “Do not prevaricate with me. Your close relationship with the Queen is all but common knowledge. Even in a country as distant from here as mine.”

“Bess and I go back a long way,” he said with a shrug, still not meeting her eyes, but rolling his goblet between his hands, his eyes growing vacant with memory. “To childhood. But my father forced me to marry another. It was true, that after she died, I had hoped…but it is not to be between Bess and I. She will not have me for a husband. And even if she would, the country would be in uproar. It would be…scandalous. The likes of Cecil would never permit it.”

“Nevertheless, you have very deep feelings for each other.”

“Perhaps,” he said roughly, drinking his goblet to the dregs and refilling it again. “It is difficult to tell sometimes.” He cast a glowering glance at the dais. The veneer of the charming rogue had slipped and fallen away entirely, and Victoria felt the man she was looking at now was the real Robert Dudley, this display of feeling the first truth she had seen in him. She very much preferred him like this.

And she could relate to their predicament.

All too well.

“Is it not unethical, to say nothing of inconsiderate, Sir Robert, to propose marriage to a woman when you clearly have such deep feelings for another?”

“No indeed. Bess may very well choose to marry a prince. Or she may remain celibate, as she has threatened often enough to do. But I cannot sacrifice myself on the same altar that she does. I have…a passionate nature, Viscountess, that cannot be denied in such a way. I must make the best of life that I can for myself. I am the kind of man that needs a wife.” The roguish gleam was back in his eyes as he looked at her, but there was something more now. Respect perhaps? “My offer was a genuine one. I think we would make a great pair, you and I. We have something in common, after all. Both of us find we cannot truly marry where we wish. Each of us is incomplete, unhappy with our fate in life. Who better to understand us than each other? To marry someone who does surrender their whole heart to you when you cannot return it, that is a cruel injustice. But that I think, is not the case between you and I. And as I have said before—you could do a lot worse for yourself here than to marry a man who at least understands, and does not hold it against you.”

“Perhaps so,” her head was spinning. Was she seriously considering his proposal? What was the matter with her? She shook her head and was slightly surprised to find the room did not stop moving when she did.

Perfect. That was all she needed. Sir John Conroy’s mocking sneer swam to the surface of her mind. She could almost hear his snide, venomous little voice, _“you never could handle drink, could you, Your Royal Highness…I mean, pardon me…Your Majesty…”_

Dudley gave her a lopsided grin and patted her hand. “There. Let us not dwell overmuch on things we cannot change. Let tonight be a new beginning. For us both. Let us attempt to seize some happiness from this cruel world…Or at least, a little amusement?”

A clap from the dais brought their conversation to a halt in anticipation of the Queen’s speech.

“Tonight, Our Court has grown by two. The beauteous Viscountess Alexandrina of Prussia, and her cousin and guardian, William Lamb—or Our Lamb William, which we prefer to call him.” She smiled as her courtiers applauded. “We are delighted they are come. So. Let us therefore have dancing!”

The minstrels were gathering in the gallery overhead as the courtiers cheered. Victoria’s heart squeezed in her chest to see the Queen turn a brilliant smile to Lord M. “Come, Our Lamb William. Shall we lead the Court in the Pavane?”

He nodded his assent, and Victoria wanted only to be alone with her tears.

“The dancing will begin soon,” Dudley whispered in her ear. “The Queen will stand up with your cousin for at least the first two dances before relinquishing him. Might I claim the same privilege with you?”

“You may,” she said softly, something inside of her trying very hard not to curl up and die. “Although I fear I do not know any of your English dances.”

“You will find in me the most patient and expert of teachers.”

She glanced up and he smiled again, twiddling his eyebrows at her as he drank from his goblet.

Victoria gave him the tiniest of smiles. He really was trying dreadfully hard to cheer her. “I thank you, Sir Robert. You are most kind.”

“I assure you, Viscountess,” he said, his eyes simmering with something like triumph, “the pleasure is entirely mine.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16-18 were all originally one chapter. But it grew waaaaaay out of proportion. Therefore I have subdivided it for greater ease of my readers. You could consider this title--"Change Partners"--to apply to all three, although each new chapter also has its own subtitle.


	17. Chapter 17--Let It Down (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change Partners Part 2: Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Lord M...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Though you sit in another chair, I can feel you here  
> Looking like I don't care, but I do, I do  
> Hiding it all behind anything I see  
> Should someone be looking at me
> 
> While I occupy my mind, I can feel you here  
> Love to us is so well timed, and I do, I do  
> Wasting away these moments so heavenly  
> Should someone be looking at me
> 
> Let it down, let it all down  
> Let your hair hang all around me  
> Let it down, let it down  
> Let your love flow and astound me
> 
> While you look so sweetly and divine, I can feel you here  
> I see your eyes are busy kissing mine, and I do, I do  
> Wondering what it is they're expecting to see  
> Should someone be looking at me
> 
> Let it down, let it all down  
> Let your hair hang all around me  
> Let it down, let it down  
> Let your love flow and astound me.”
> 
> (”Let It Down”, George Harrison, 1970).

Chapter 17—Let It Down

 

William’s heart was heavy as lead as Elizabeth I led him away from Victoria. He could feel her anguish—God, how he shared it!

But he forced himself to smile at the Queen, who so obviously favored him, reminding himself that he must be convincing—must play the role of the simpering courtier to perfection—if he was to win a means of supporting Victoria and be able to offer for her. Before whoever his rival was got there first.

“We had hoped to see you earlier in the day,” the Queen offered, chiding slightly as she rested her hand on his elbow, “but of course, we understand. You had many arrangements to make.”

“Indeed Your Majesty, we did.”  William couldn't help clearing his throat at this.  Fortunately, even in a place like this, a man's thoughts were still private.  Provided he didn't paint them all over his face.

“Perhaps we should have given you more time, but, we found, Our Lamb, that we could not be so unselfish. The day was quite long enough before your arrival as it was.” She smiled as he held her chair out for her and she sank gracefully onto it, placing her hand over his on the chair back.

He pulled it away as delicately as he possibly could and cleared his throat. Again.

“Your Majesty is most kind.”

“Not at all,” she practically giggled, making William cringe. “We are most selfish. We cannot fathom how such a handsome man has lived all his life in our realm, and we have only just met him.” She touched his shoulder.

“England is, after all, a large area, Majesty, and you have been most busily engaged in far more important matters than acquainting yourself with every small, impoverished country squire between here and Scotland.”  While he did want her favor, William most definitely did NOT want her love.  He therefore pledged to himself that he would take every opportunity to point out as many of his flaws as possible, to hopefully disobey her of any more...romantic notions regarding himself.

She giggled again. “Oh but had we known that we had such Lambs among our general flock as you, we should have made it very much our business to know you…intimately.” Her voice had dropped an octave seductively, leaving him in no doubt of her meaning as she next laid her hand lightly upon his thigh. "We are determined, therefore, not to lose a single moment more of your entrancing company."

 _Bloody hell!_ William blinked, astonished.  He could not remember a time he'd been so outflanked verbally. Perhaps he was accustomed to bantering with Victoria, who was witty and intelligent, but not as worldly as apparently the Virgin Queen. 

“I fear you would have been most disappointed, Ma’am, had you known me any sooner. I am--"  he made a helpless gesture, "not a man worth Your Majesty’s notice on any account.” He crossed his legs casually, moving his thigh just enough for her hand to drop away.

“That is because your humility blinds you to your true value, where others see you most clearly.” Undaunted by his defensive maneuvers, she traced her fingers along his jaw, then trailed them through the tail of his feathered cap. "It is another virtue, to add to your many others."

William found himself quite unaccountably shocked.  As jaded as he prided himself on being, considering his long life and his rather liberal upbringing, he still simply had not been prepared for the self-styled Virgin Queen to be so...aggressive...in her attentions.  He ran a finger over his brow, quite stunned into silence by her brazenness, and wishing himself and Victoria far away from this place.

She had paused and it took William a moment to realize she was waiting for him to fill her trencher. He did so, and poured her some wine, for which she nodded at him graciously.

“To Our Lamb, William,” she raised her goblet in salute, “We are most gratified that you have joined our Court.”

He raised his cup in acknowledgment, smiled and muttered something he hoped was complimentary, but in truth his attention had been drawn away by the sight of a small, dainty dark-haired woman in cream-colored satin slashed with gold, accompanied by a tall man who was walking entirely too close to her for his comfort.

The man’s head was close cropped, and he sported a large ruby earring hanging ridiculously suspended off of one ear, giving him the appearance of a lop-sided fop. He was looking at Victoria as if she were a tasty morsel set upon his plate that he could not wait to devour.

The Queen was saying something, he realized distantly.

With great effort, he focused his attention back on her.

“There is your little cousin now,” the Queen said in a somewhat frosty tone. “Well. There then is her suitor, unveiled at last. We could have guessed as much.”

“You sound unsurprised, Your Majesty,” Melbourne volunteered, deliberately turning away from the sight of Victoria and the man who was now seated next to her on the bench, slobbering all down her decolletage.  He was not a man to seek out violence, but in that moment…he wanted nothing more than to run the blackguard through with his own sword. Repeatedly. “Is Your Majesty well acquainted with this man?”

The Queen huffed out a laugh. “Passing well, Sir. He is Sir Robert Dudley. A very…old friend…of ours.”

_Robert Dudley!_

Inside the privacy of his mind, Melbourne swore. Profusely.

_Dear God._

He rubbed at the sudden pain between his eyes. Would that he could wake from this horrible nightmare to find himself still at the inn, his body curled around Victoria's delicate, naked form, cradling her in his arms…keeping her warm and safe...and all to himself.

His Victoria.

His Queen.

He closed his eyes in pain.

“Sir?” His dinner companion asked. “Are you quite all right, Our Lamb?” The Queen was studying him a little too intently for comfort. He rallied himself and gave her what he hoped was a charming smile borne of his long years in politics.

“Hmm? Oh! Yes. Quite all right. I just was wondering as to the character of this man. I know him not. Does Your Majesty believe he would be a good suitor for the hand of the Viscountess?”  He forced the words past numb lips, his own bitterness threatening to choke him outright.

“We have known Robbie for most of our life,” she said, a little quietly, pointedly not answering the second half of the question. “He seems…enchanted…by your little Cousin.”

Melbourne struggled to keep his seat. Struggled to keep his countenance. Dudley’s hand was on her leg, caressing and sliding ever upward. A sudden vision of Dudley’s guts spilling at his feet, and a knife, dripping with the man's blood in his own hand filled Melbourne’s vision, which was swimming in a haze of red--

\--or perhaps green.

 ** _NO!_  ** Everything inside of him shouted the word.

“Your Majesty, surely you—”

Her hand closed on his arm like a vice. She did not speak, and a sidelong look at her told him she was as furious as he, and caught just as helplessly watching.

No matter how one looked at the tableau unfolding before them, it was a disaster of epic proportions where he and Victoria were concerned.

He saw Dudley wink and grin at her like an ape. He saw Victoria’s cheeks grow adorably pink. And saw her straighten her spine and seize his hand, depositing it with distaste back to it’s owner.

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest.  She was fighting him, but he knew her well enough to know—she was intrigued by him. Even...aroused.  And of course she was.  She was a young woman after all, with a deeply passionate and sensual nature.  And, thanks to himself and his lack of self control, newly awakened into all manner of moods and flavors of the act of love.  She was particularly vulnerable to the brand of seduction being ladled on so thickly by Sir Robert Dudley.  And himself no where near her to protect, or even distract her.

_Well, what did you expect, after all?_

He tasted bile.

His dinner companion had also become deathly quiet and still as a finely carved statue next to him, and he had the distinct impression that, hand on his arm or no, he had been quite as forgotten by her as she was to himself.

Both of them watched, united in fury, as the lover's chase ensued below.  Victoria slid as far as she could away from him.  Then Dudley pursued, closed the gap, neatly capturing her and straddling the bench brazenly, his knees practically grazing her knee and her hip respectively as he whispered in her ear.  Melbourne watched in helpless pain as Victoria’s cheeks grew pinker when Dudley filled her goblet with wine and brought it to her lips with his own hands, emptying its contents down her throat to the dregs.

_Bloody, bollocking hell.  He means to get her drunk. To...  
_

He had had more than enough of this.

“Your Majesty—I beg your indulgence to intervene. The Viscountess is my responsibility.”

He felt the owner of the hand on his arm force herself to relax, watched as a practiced smile slid in place over her features, and he found himself in sudden fascinated admiration for Elizabeth’s ability to conquer her own emotion, to snap her spine in place and to swallow her own pain.  She felt everyone’s eyes on her, not just his, he realized, as the entire banquet hall watched the drama that was unfolding here—a drama in which he and Victoria were both unwilling participants.

He felt himself suddenly split into two—his heart and soul in agony for himself and Victoria, while the statesman and scholar in him was fascinated by this intimate glimpse into a historical persona he had always admired.  But in that moment, instead of an imposing and formidable Queen, what he saw was a vulnerable woman--a girl, even--desperate to be loved for her own sake, not because she was Queen, or what gifts she could bestow.  It was quite possible, he reflected, that she had never experienced love for love's sake--never knew what it was like to let one's guard down around another person, to be intimate, to feel...whole and alive, and at peace.  And it was this basic human need that she craved above all things.

It was entirely possible that the closest she had ever come to this state--or ever would come to it--was with the man he currently wished more than anything that he could personally eviscerate with his bare hands.

The man currently seducing Victoria. 

“Fear not, Our Lamb,” she turned her practiced smile to him. “All will be well. Robbie is a shameless flirt perhaps, but her virtue is safe with him.”

“I do not believe this sets a good precedence, Your Majesty," he persisted.  Whatever Elizabeth's feelings may be, he was not about to stand by and watch Dudley take advantage of Victoria.  "I do not wish others to follow his example, feeling that such behavior is permissible.”

“You take your Guardianship quite seriously, Our Lamb.” 

His thoughts turned uncomfortably back to his own situation.

“Of course I do. I am all she has,” his voice threatened to break, but he swallowed the emotion in time. “It is my duty to protect her.”

“But only for a short time,” the Queen added. “Now that she has come to Court, she will marry again. Soon, I expect. And then you will be released of the burden of responsibility.”

It was the story of his life, it seemed. In this time, or in his own, to have people around him forever telling him his time with Victoria was limited, that he must reconcile himself to giving her up to another man.  The only, the greatest happiness he'd ever known.

Such rich irony! May God in His divine mercy so grant him such a 'burden' to bear, for the rest of his life!

He drained his own wine to the dregs and filled his goblet again. Damnation, but he needed to stop drinking if he was to keep his head about him. But he also needed something to dull the pain, to take the edge off his anger, which was, as usual, rendered impotent by the dictates of polite society. What he wouldn’t give to march down there, clout the bastard across his simpering, smirking face, throw Victoria over his shoulder and run out into the night with her. The impulse to do so was overwhelming.

And so, he drank.

“Yes,” he forced from his lips, “But it is my wish…my duty…to see her married to a man who will treat her with the respect she is due.”

“You must allow her some freedom if she is to find a husband at all,” the Queen smiled, amusement clear in her voice. “Truly, Our Lamb, if you were to descend upon every suitor for her hand with such a ferocious scowl as you are currently wearing, you will never be released from your obligation!" She laid a hand playfully on his shoulder.  "Robbie is not so bad as he may seem. He has a bewitching effect on women, and he has learned to play his hand to great effect. But underneath it all, he is a simple, kind man. He is lonely since his wife’s untimely death. The Viscountess has a sweet look about her, like Amy did. No doubt she puts him in mind of her.” She smiled at him sweetly, clearly in the hopes he would turn away from Victoria and back to her. “It is a loneliness that undoubtedly your cousin shares, having lost her husband so recently. It gives them a common bond, do you not think?”

William, trying to make a good show of it, offered her a smile. "Your Majesty is correct, of course."

The Queen beamed at him, clearly pleased, filling him with relief. He needed her to have a favorable opinion of him, if he was to be any use to himself or Victoria, he reminded himself. He must stop this brooding, earn her favor somehow--distinguish himself by offering her some service or other that would earn her gratitude in the form of at least a baronetcy, and a small piece of land somewhere, where they could live and be independent…

It was such a small dream. Surely it was not too much to ask, for the rest of his life? A small dream for happiness for himself, after a lifetime of service to Monarch and country?

“We perceive you care very much for your cousin’s well-being,” The Queen observed, stroking his cheek casually with a finger.  “It does you credit, Our Lamb.”

“Her father and I were very close.” Well. He knew Victoria’s father, after all. It was only a small exaggeration. He smiled at Elizabeth and allowed her to pet him, though it brought him no pleasure.

“So you feel a…paternal…affection for her.”

This was dangerous ground. The Queen suspected something. He must both put her off the scent, and not completely eliminate the possibility of all his hopes at the same time.

“The Viscountess is beloved by all who know her. She is a rare creature indeed. Both gracious and spirited, she possesses a lively, intelligent mind and a great curiosity of the world. She has a tremendous amount of courage, takes the adversities of life and meets them with a steely resolve one cannot help but admire. Yes, I do take my guardianship seriously, Your Majesty, both for her father’s sake and for her own. I worry for her future. She needs a man who will do more than provide for her. She needs a man who will appreciate her. Who will always recognize that he has won a pearl of great price and treat her accordingly. But she is so impulsive and I fear, easily swayed by flattery and a handsome face. It is my duty as her guardian to protect her future happiness by assuring that she does not fall victim of a man with less-than-honorable intentions, or a man who does not recognize her true worth. And I intend to fulfill that duty to the best of my ability—Ma’am.” He turned his eyes to the Queen, allowed her to read the sincerity of his resolve.

“We see,” the Queen whispered, nodding, her hand withdrawn from his person, hovering in midair like a confused white bird.  He saw in the depths of her golden cat eyes a glimpse of that same vulnerability and longing he had seen before, crossed with something like envy.  They glistened in the candlelight, somewhat moist, and she blinked several times as if to clear her sight. “She is very fortunate indeed, to have such a...devoted cousin to look after her. Every woman should be so blessed.”

He thought perhaps, despite his efforts to sound avuncular that she did see, all too clearly. He turned his eyes from her and buried his face in his goblet again, taking refuge inside it’s contents.

“And what of yourself, Lamb?”

“Your Majesty?”

“When she has married, you too will be alone.”  The tawny eyes were on him again, narrowed somewhat speculatively.

“I find I can bear solitude tolerably well, Ma’am. I have a temperament well suited to it.”

“You do not care for your own future nearly so much as you care for hers.” It was a statement, but spoken in a voice that betrayed curiosity. 

The Queen was far too astute for his liking. He poured himself another goblet of wine against his better judgment, as if he could somehow escape her scrutiny in its contents.

“My future is not nearly so lengthy as hers is likely to be, Your Majesty. Practically speaking, I am a man who’s past the prime of his life, who’s future is likely to be his declining years. She is a very young woman, still standing in life’s entry gate. It is right that I should care for her future more than my own. Her future happiness may very well be determined by my actions, and by how carefully she is guided now. Whereas my future compass is set and is likely to remain unchanged. It is of no consequence, therefore, for me to waste time in the over contemplation of it. It shall come soon enough, and run its course.  I would hardly be worthy of the title of guardian, however, if I did not place her welfare above my own, and make her needs the very highest of my priorities.  Do you not think so?"

The Queen's smile faltered a little, and her eyes were still moist.  “You have the wisdom of an older man, with all the manly beauty of a younger, and consideration for the well-being of others that is a rare commodity indeed.” The Queen smiled. “It is a heady combination, Our Lamb. Perhaps your future shall not contain the solitude that you predict for yourself after all. Once your duty is discharged and your young cousin happily situated, what is to prevent you from seeking happiness for yourself?”

 _The fact that my happiness will have just been married off to someone else._ He drained the contents of his goblet again.

“You are forgetting, Your Majesty, I have nothing to offer a perspective bride, but an aging man possessed of a dullish wit, an over-fondness of drink and a passion for dusty books that no one else is much mindful of. I have not even the assurance of continuing health and vitality, both of which have been known to forsake a man of so many years as I have now amassed in the blink of an eye. With no estate or means of providing for a wife, should I become an invalid or leave her widowed, or both…it would be irresponsible of me in the extreme to even entertain such a notion.”

She laughed.  “There have been many such men who would do just that, without a second thought given to the woman in question."  Her eyes narrowed and her smile returned.  "You are indeed exceedingly kind and considerate, Our Lamb William. Perhaps the most kind and artless man we have ever been privileged to meet. We are very well pleased with you, and find your company a most welcome change to what we have become accustomed to. It is a most egregious crime that such a generous man as you should remain lonely. Perhaps it will be in our power to remedy that?” her hand landed once again lightly on his thigh, but William could not find a graceful way to extract himself this time, and so permitted the touch.

“Your Majesty is most kind, and has already overwhelmed both my cousin and myself with your great generosity.” _Artless indeed_ , he scoffed.  _If she only knew._   Still.  He had a great admiration for the woman seated next to him, and he couldn't help but feel a bit flattered at her esteem.  It was a shame that he found himself in what amounted to something of an adversarial role with her.  Under other circumstances, it might have been different.

“It is of no consequence. It is our pleasure to extend our patronage to two such deserving persons. Do you ride, Our Lamb?”

“I do,” he said with reluctance, his mind immediately going to his rides with Victoria. “When I have need of it.”

“Excellent.  You shall accompany us on our daily ride, tomorrow.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. We would be delighted.”

“I am sure the Viscountess can find…other means of amusing herself. You are, after all, allowed some time where you are not always her keeper.  And you must readjust yourself to life without her.  Tomorrow, you shall be our royal escort.”

“Very well, Your Majesty.” He bowed his head deferentially, his heart and mind in turmoil. It was inevitable of course, that she would seek to separate the two of them and keep himself ever at her side.  But he had hoped for a different outcome.  But with Dudley in the picture now, it was even more alarming a notion.  How was he to be able to keep an eye on her?  To reassure her of his love?  To keep Dudley in check?

"And now...enough of this solemn discourse.  It is time we had some dancing." 

Elizabeth stood abruptly, and all conversation in the hall ceased. With a clap of her hands, the minstrels in the gallery began to gather and test their instruments.

“Tonight, Our Court has grown by two. The beauteous Viscountess Alexandrina of Prussia, and her cousin and guardian, William Lamb—or Our Lamb William, which we prefer to call him.” She smiled as her courtiers applauded. “We are delighted they are come. So. Let us therefore have dancing!”

The room cheered, and Elizabeth turned her brightest smile to William.

“Come, Our Lamb William. Shall we lead the Court in the Pavane?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been saving this song for a place like this in the story. This song took my breath away the first time I heard it (acoustic version). George Harrison was my favorite Beatle and I think this is one of the sexiest songs he ever wrote. It's also very Vicbourne. (Especially the line, "I see your eyes are busy kissing mine".) If you've never heard it, check it out. But I think it fits this part of the story on so many levels, and from so many different POV. 
> 
> This chapter is part 2 of "Change Partners." Part 3 is yet to come. (You've guessed it--on to the dance!)


	18. Chapter 18—Tournent De Violons (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Change Partners" Part 3 of 3: The dance begins..."tournent les vies oh tournent les violons..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Great feast at the castle a long time ago  
> The fair ladies and fair gents, ennobled, noble blood  
> Of all the kingdom came dancing
> 
> Spin the violins oh spin and begone  
> Spin the violins.…
> 
> The beautiful uniform, oh the beautiful lieutenant…  
> The bright smile of a prince charming
> 
> Spin the lives oh spin an begone  
> Spin the violins
> 
> Double up the party and the laughters and the dances…  
> The noise, the lights, it's him coming forth
> 
> Spin the lives oh spin an begone  
> Spin the violins
> 
> While taking his glass close to her he leans  
> Whispers in her ear while grazing her hip  
> "You are really pretty" in a divine smile
> 
> Spin the lives oh spin an begone  
> Spin the violins…"**
> 
> (”Tournent De Violons”, Jean Jacques Goldman, 2001. **Lyrics translated from French)

Chapter 18—Tournent De Violons

 

Dudley had been correct. When the dancing started, Lord M was leading Elizabeth most gallantly onto the dance floor in the slow procession of the Pavane, so handsome that he would eclipse the sun, gazing at his partner as if she were the only woman in the world—the way he’d used to gaze at her.

He was only masquerading, she knew. She knew it! And yet, her heart crumbled in her chest to see it, and a searing pain shot through her so strong and so deep inside of her that she almost doubled over with it.

“Viscountess?” Robert Dudley was standing very close to her, the heat of his body radiating into her. “Shall we?”

“Yes of course,” she said woodenly, allowing him to lead her toward the line of dancers and they took their place in the procession.

“Follow my lead. The steps are easy.”

She did follow him, and soon, as he predicted, she became acquainted enough with the slow moving dance that she was able to fall into step with relative ease. Victoria was grateful that she was a fast learner when it came to dancing. By the time the dance ended, the casual spectator could not have said for sure that she was any less adept than any of the other ladies.

The second dance, though, was more familiar, and Victoria breathed a sigh of relief. L’Allemande may have changed in a few centuries, but it in essence it was the same dance that she knew, and once again, she was able to follow Dudley’s slightly different steps and patterns fairly well.

“You dance beautifully,” He whispered as they clasped arms and circled around each other. “I would never have known the steps were unfamiliar to you.”

“Thank you Sir,” she said, her spirits lifting with the more-or-less familiar dance.

“You are by far the loveliest woman here tonight. It is little wonder your cousin cannot take his eyes off of you.” Dudley observed.

“He has no eyes for any but for the Queen.”

“If you say so,” he said, winking.

At the end of the second dance, Sir Robert offered his arm to her to lead her from the floor.

“Two dances go by so quickly with you, Viscountess,” he raised her fingers to his lips, and once again, allowed them to linger too long against her hand. “I am loathe to part from you, but for propriety’s sake, I must give you up to another partner.”

“I thank you, Sir Robert, for your patient instruction. But I fear I do not know this next dance at all, and so I would likely embarrass us both.”

“It is a Gallaird. One of Bess’s favorites. Perhaps you should allow me to teach you some of our English dances, Viscountess. Bess is very fond of dancing, after all, and you will have much need to know them. Particularly this one, as we dance it often in Court.”

Victoria considered. Lord M likely did not know many of these dances either, and so could not teach her. A search of the current dancers did not reveal him to be among them. Though she did not wish to spend much time in Dudley’s company she could not fault the wisdom of his offer. She could hardly go through every evening claiming ignorance or a headache without at some point raising the Queen’s ire.

“Very well.”

“Splendid. I suggest we begin immediately. Say, tomorrow afternoon, after the midday meal? In the East wing, there is a small dancing hall at the far end of the ground floor. It is typically saved for instruction of this kind. It will be ideal for our purposes.”

“Very well, Sir Robert. I shall be there.”

“Excellent,” he leaned forward, raised her hand to his lips again between them and kissed her knuckles, eyes never leaving hers. “I look forward to it with great anticipation. Shall we begin perhaps now by watching the dancers, and I shall comment upon each?”

Victoria found Lord M at last. He in fact drifted out of the dance, leaving the Queen dancing with another courtier. His eyes met hers and she gasped at the heat she saw brimming in them, even from across the room. She could not take her eyes from William as he made his way to her side.

His expression was solemn, with a burning intensity around his eyes and the stern line of his mouth that could only be described as fury. Her heart breathed a sigh of relief, and some measure of tension left her body. So he had noticed her after all! She watched him stride purposefully straight for her, his body moving with a grace and power that made her knees weak. He was so beautiful, even when he was angry. She found her breath was coming short. She could not tear her eyes away from him as he crossed the banquet hall to her side, her mind flooded with images and memories of the things they had done together, of the feeling of his body on her, beneath her, inside of her, so much that she almost moaned aloud.

She could feel Dudley by her side, watching her, watching William, his intense dark gaze speculating, assessing, seeing all. She felt her cheeks burn but yet, she could not turn away from William. Not until he was quite close did she drop her eyes to her feet.

“Cousin,” Victoria’s voice sounded dry and crackling to her own ears as she dropped a curtsy to her Lord M.

“Viscountess,” William said with quiet intensity, “You have been well looked after I see,” he turned his eyes to Dudley. “I do not believe we have met. Sir.”

“Indeed not, Sir.”

“Cousin William, may I present Sir Robert Dudley. Sir Robert, my cousin, William Lamb.”

“Sir Robert,” William gave him a stern nod, his emerald eyes hard as ice as he regarded his rival. “You have been…quite attentive…to my Cousin this evening.”

“Indeed Sir. I believe she was quite in need of…diversion.”

“And you took it upon yourself to provide this.”

“I did. Once I perceived her Guardian was…otherwise…engaged.” He gave William a deferential nod that was almost a mockery.

William’s eyes narrowed.

“I see. And you saw this as…an opportunity.”

“As any _gallant_ man would. The Viscountess was left quite alone on her first night at Court. She was greatly distressed. I perceived she both needed…and desired…companionship.”

“She seemed to be even more distressed when you lay your hand on her, Sir, in a most familiar fashion.”

William’s gaze was sharper and more thunderous than she had ever seen it. Her breath caught again, and she quickly dropped her gaze. Dear heaven above, but he was beautiful when he was so stern! Still, it was a fearsome beauty. She wondered if he was angry with her as well as Dudley. Perhaps he should be. She did not deserve his love. Her eyes closed in pain.

_My dearest Lord M! How sorry I am…_

She raised her eyes again to see Dudley, looking long at hard at William, and William in turn so furious that his legendary composure seemed to be stretched to the breaking point.

The silence stretched for an eternity, during which she felt sure Dudley saw clearly the fullest extent of their relationship.

Finally, he bowed sardonically, and raised his glass to William as if in supplication.

“My apologies, Sir. I found myself quite carried away with the Viscountess’ many charms. She quite rightly put me in my place though. I assure you it shall never happen again.”

“See to it that it does not. Sir.”

Again, that bow.

“Viscountess, I thank you for your enchanting company this evening. I shall take my leave of you now, and look forward to seeing you on the morrow.”

“Sir Robert,” she said in dismissal.

“I bid you both good evening.”

“What was that all about?” He muttered to her in a low voice as he stared at his wineglass after Dudley had retreated.

“He’s going to teach me how to dance properly here. I thought it might be wise to accept.”

William almost choked, and pulled Victoria away from the dance floor and into the shadows.

“Tell me you did not agree to meet him.”

“I did.”

He made a half strangled sound of…she wasn’t sure what.

“Well you do not know these dances after all. I cannot go on pretending to have a headache every night.”

“But you can go on pretending to be _Prussian_ , which is what you are to these people.”

Victoria realized dimly that at some point, Lord M had addressed her in German, and she had replied in the same language.

“I did not know you spoke German so proficiently, Cousin.”

“Good thing. While there may be some among the court that do also, far fewer than those who speak the native tongue. It affords us a measure of safety, as well as lends your story credibility.”

“Who is to say that I cannot then turn around and teach the dances to you?” She persisted. “You will be required to know them even more than I. You are of this country.”

“But a country squire does not have the elegant refinement present at Court! There is no need for either of us to learn the dances and therefore, no need to meet with him in private. Besides, the less I can dance, the less she will be able to dance with me! Or did you just want to keep dancing with Sir Robert Dudley?”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I do! It is _him_ that I do not trust. Did I not tell you to be on your guard with him above all others?”

“You are angry with me!”

“No, upon no account. I am—” he twirled his goblet in his hands, looking around as if expecting a page to appear with another bottle. “Damn and blast,” he said in English.

“Can we not leave this now?” She continued in German.

“No, not yet. The Queen was very reluctant to part with me. If she looks around and finds us both gone so quickly she may take offense, and then be very cross with you tomorrow morning, when you have to report to her levee.”

“Perhaps not,” Victoria drew his attention to the middle of the dance floor, where Elizabeth and Dudley were dancing together. Well, to be more precise, where Dudley was sliding the Queen slowly and tightly down the front of his body, to the hoots and shouts of all the onlookers.

“That is Lavolta,” he told her. “The most risque dance of this era.”

“One can see why. It would be scandalous in our time too.”

“What do you want to bet that will be your first lesson tomorrow?”

“Cousin, please…not here. Even in German.”

“What time did you agree to meet him?”

“After the noonday meal. Why?”

William swore, in German and in English. And then in French. Victoria’s eyebrows rose.

“What? What is wrong?”

“Because Her Majesty has requested that I be her royal escort on her ride tomorrow afternoon. What do you want to bet both our engagements occur at precisely the same time?”

“She’s asked you. To go riding with her?” Victoria’s stomach churned.

“Quite alone. Yes.”

She exhaled a long, ragged breath and felt as if she might crumble to the floor. Tears stung and threatened to fall.

“So it has begun then in earnest. She means to keep you to her side and away from me.”

“And while she does, Dudley moves in for the kill with you.” He swore again.

“I do not want Sir Robert Dudley, William. Surely you must know that.”

“And I do not want Elizabeth, Alexandrina. Do you know that?”

She cast her eyes down. “I cannot see how you could not want her,” she whispered. “She is so much _more_ than I.”

“Dear God woman…how can you not know how I feel by now?”

“You look at her the same way you do me!”

“No I do not.”

“Yes you do!”

“Damn it Victoria! I have to play the part, don’t you know that?”

“Is that what you did with me? Play the part?” She asked quietly. “Was that all it ever was…Lord M?” One tear perched precariously on the edge of her eye.

“No indeed…Ma’am,” he whispered, raising his fingertip to her eye and wiping it away gently. “Never with you.” His voice was husky, and the fury in him had dissipated. He blinked hard, and she knew he was fighting his own tears. “We cannot do this here,” he choked, turning away from her.

The dance had come to a conclusion. He turned to her in sudden decision.

“Dance with me,” he said.

A jolt went through her.

“What, here? Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Why would it not be?”

“Because I might…not be able to dance with you without…betraying to one and all how I feel, that is why. But perhaps because we cannot waltz here it will not be so much of an issue.”

“Why not?”

“Cousin?”

“Why can we not waltz? Who is to say it wasn’t already some quaint country folk dance of this period that just never made it to the English Court? The Queen is fond of dancing. What do you want to bet she will take to it like wildfire and then we will have introduced it to England three hundred years in advance. Besides. I want very much to dance with you. Here and now. Tonight.”

“How much wine have you drunk this evening, Cousin?” She gazed at him hard.

“Not enough,” he said gruffly, and taking her elbow in his hand, led her to the dance floor, where they stepped together into a hushed crowd.

“Our Lamb William! Viscountess!” Elizabeth’s radiant smile she had bestowed on William turned cautious and frosty as it landed on Victoria.

“If it pleases Your Majesty, the Viscountess and I wish to demonstrate a Prussian folk dance, in token of our great esteem for Your Majesty, and in gratitude for Your Majesty’s great kindness to us both. It is called a Waltz,” he said, deliberately using the German pronunciation.

The Queen’s face was delighted, but Victoria’s stomach was now in knots. She could feel the reckless wildness in William building into a storm. So different from his usual demeanor, his usual poise and calm! His face though, was grimly determined as he gave instructions to the minstrel gallery for time and tempo.

“Viscountess?” He held his arms out to her and she stepped into them, wrapped instantly into his eyes. She felt and heard the scandalized intake of breath from the entire court as they took their dancing position, but William’s hold on her was light and yet commanding, and the distance between them as great as they could manage and still hold on to each other. The minstrels began and soon he was sweeping her through the hall, spinning and twirling and gliding in the effortless improvisation that comes to two people who are so in tuned to each other, on the dance floor and off of it. It was their most favorite, their special dance, and Victoria couldn’t help herself—she was drowning in his eyes, in the feel of his hands on her body, trying so hard to look neutral and feeling as though she was failing miserably.

Even so, it was magic, and for a short while she felt they were themselves again, Victoria and her Lord M, and everything and everyone faded away from her vision and her mind as ever it did when he danced with her except for him, who kept her tethered to the world--her anchor, her rock, her great love. She could close her eyes and see again the walls of Buckingham House, her coronation ball, her Lord M touching her in the dance for the first time, the look in his eyes as he gazed upon her, and the heady desire she had expressed then to dance with him all night, every night, for the rest of their lives, so calm and sure and safe and swept away as he made her feel when she was in his arms this way.

When the strains of the music died down, he released her back to earth in a graceful swirl of her skirts and they bowed and curtsied to each other, and then turned as one to do the same towards the Queen.

It had been a beautiful dance, Victoria knew. The best and the freest they had ever been together.

The entire hall rang with stunned silence.

Victoria’s heart was hammering. She was certain they would go to the Tower. Or at least be separated from their living quarters together. Surely some ax would fall on them for this outrageous, shocking display? She kept her eyes on the floor, holding the curtsy until something happened to release her.

She heard distantly the ragged release of a breath. And then, footsteps, and a rustle of silk skirts. Elizabeth’s hand shot out under her chin and raised her eyes.

She saw with surprise that Elizabeth was much affected, and tears glistened in her golden tiger eyes.

“Beautiful,” she said in a hushed voice. “Such joy…such sorrow…such…passion as we have never seen before. We thank you,” she said in a voice ringing from the rafters, “and we wish to learn this country dance of Prussia, and have it danced in our Court henceforth!”

The general audience cheered, and Victoria found she could breath again when The Queen’s radiant smile was once again bestowed on her and William.

“Our Lamb,” she said, sidling up to William, with her hands girlishly behind her back. “You are truly full of surprises! Show us how you…” she paused.

“Waltz, Your Majesty,” he said in a flat voice.

“Waltz. Such a charming name.” She held out her hands as if to embrace him. William obliged her by instructing her where to place her hands.

“Your Majesty is sure you wish to permit this? My hand must go against Your Majesty’s back.”

“We do,” she said in a rapturous tone.

Victoria watched the display woodenly, her joy at their dance draining as William again obliged and pulled the Queen into a politely distant dancing position, and as the minstrels began to play again, he began instructing her as to steps, and slowly they made their way around the banquet hall. Elizabeth was a fast learner, and soon William was sweeping her around the floor in a graceful, if predictable, line.

“You are both to be congratulated,” Sir Robert stepped up next to her again. “You have greatly pleased her. Particularly, your Cousin.”

“Sir Robert, about tomorrow—”

“Look at them,” he said to her familiarly. “Mark the way she looks at him. Is that the face of a woman who is about to allow the man she favors with such an expression marry his cousin?”

“What—”

“Oh come along, Viscountess. Neither of us are particularly innocent in the ways of the world, are we?” He gave her his wolfish smile. “Your cousin behaves less like a concerned elder relation and more like a jealous lover with every moment that passes. Not that I blame him. God knows, in his position, I’d be a thousand times worse.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.” He smiled. “Come. You must teach me this dance as well.”

“I cannot—”

“Oh yes you can,” he stepped very close to her and placed one hand on her lower back, and clasped her hand in his other. “I believe, this is the starting position? Show me the steps, Viscountess. Let us remind them both that we are here too.”

His nearness was affecting her more than she cared to admit, but she permitted him to step out onto the floor with her, and she walked him through some of the basic steps and principals of the dance.

“I like this country dance of yours, Viscountess,” he whispered, tightening his grip on her back and bringing her closer. “Very much.” Something flickered in his eyes then. Something that looked less like seduction and more like…genuine emotion, and for a breathless moment, she thought he might kiss her.

Then the dance ended, and eventually he released her.

The Queen was so fascinated with the waltz that she danced an unprecedented second dance of the scandalous new dance with William. Victoria watched them float by her and had to admit, Elizabeth was not only a very good dancer, but a much more effective Queen. Victoria had, after all, never been successful in coaxing Lord M into a second dance with her, ever. But fortunately or unfortunately, she had no time to reflect upon this, for Sir Robert was there beside her again, coaxing her into another round.

He was also a very quick learner, and as she may have expected, eventually grew confident enough to truly take a very commanding lead in the dance, beginning to improvise and add flourishes that Victoria found she very much enjoyed. Other couples were now also stepping out into the floor around the edges, watching and attempting to imitate the newest dance craze of Elizabeth’s court…three hundred years too soon.

The reminder sobered her.

“We make a good pair, you and I, do you not think so, Viscountess?” He had pulled her very close, close enough to whisper in her ear.

“You are holding me too closely, Sir Robert. The dance requires more distance.”

“This is a scandalously delicious dance, My Lady,” he purred, “And I find quite to the contrary of your statement, that closer proximity brings not only a greater harmony of steps but also, very great pleasure to the dance. Dear God, but you feel so good in my arms…Alexandrina.” His hand, very low on her back, pulled her forward, even closer to himself, much like the Russian Grand Duke had once held her in a far distant ball…enough to stir her blood in a very alarming way. “Holding you this way…I am wholly intoxicated by you. Viscountess, you are glorious. You fill my senses more than the finest wine in all of Europe. And I want to drink of you to the dregs….” His lips brushed her ear, his breath warm against her skin, the heat and weight of his hand low on her back and the warm strength of his body at the front of her.

He had said her name like a benediction, and her eyes closed as she admitted to herself that there was a second person she liked to have say her hated first name…and that was a very bad thing indeed.

A voice very nearby saved her from having to formulate a reply.

"Sir Robert, the dance has ended.  Kindly release the Viscountess immediately."

It was William's voice.  Victoria stumbled, and her partner released her with reluctance. Her face flushed scarlet as she regarded her shoes on the beautiful marble floor and stepped, swaying herself, a little out of his arms and farther away from him. Her body felt cold at the loss of his heat.

“Robbie, for shame,” the Queen said, “You have monopolized our little Viscountess too long this night.”

“She offered no objection,” her erstwhile partner said in something of a tetchy tone.

“Nevertheless, she will have other suitors vying for the pleasure of being her partner. It is not seemly of you to make your…attention…so pronounced.”

“Who is vying for her?” He looked around dramatically, anger in his voice. “No one that I see. Even her Guardian was otherwise engaged…with the same dancing partner for multiple turns, as well, I might add.”

A hush fell on the Court as everyone collectively held their breath at this great daring on the part of one of Elizabeth's courtiers.

“Why should I not 'make my attention so pronounced', in any case?” Sir Robert said in a loud voice. “If I wish to dance with her, and she is agreeable, I see no reason why I shall not dance with her, be it one time or fifty in the course of a single night!  Should I deny myself _all_ pleasures in life, Your Majesty, to make way for other men? Why should _I_ not be allowed to claim some happiness for myself?”

Time stopped utterly. To Victoria it seemed that there were only two people in the room—Dudley and the Queen, their eyes locked tight as a lover’s embrace. The air was charged, as with lightening that might strike at any moment.

The Queen’s expression was thunderous, and Victoria felt a surge of resentment. How dare she monopolize Lord M, and now insist on having Robert Dudley’s attention too? She felt a measure of sympathy for her companion, and very great measure of fear for herself.

_She hates me now. I’m going to the Tower tomorrow for sure._

“Sir Robert,” Victoria said, clearing her throat and adopting her most Queen-like posture. “I thank you for the honor of dancing with you. But I find I have come over most fatigued. If it is Your Majesty’s pleasure, I would like to retire for the evening.”

Robert Dudley’s eyes were filled with something like regret, mixed with a softer emotion she couldn’t quite identify, as he nodded to her stiffly in acknowledgment, but to her relief, the Queen’s frosty expression thawed considerably as she regarded her.

“Of course, Viscountess. It has been an eventful day, no doubt. You have our royal permission to withdraw, with our best wishes for a full recovery by tomorrow.” She paused for a moment, her gaze once again linked with Sir Robert’s. “Our Lamb also has our permission to withdraw to attend his charge. Undoubtedly he is tired as well.”

Victoria heard Lord M reply in courtly language, but had had all she could take for one evening. She bobbed a curtsy to the Queen, turned on her heel and left the hall as soon as she had permission to do so, not waiting for Lord M to catch her up or escort her out. With the last vestiges of the Queen she once was, she willed herself not to run until she was safely out of the banquet hall. Then she gave her feet full permission to take flight, raised her skirts and fled into the darkness of the palace beyond.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They say that inspiration comes from many sources. This is an example of one such random inspiration. The music video for the song this sub-chapter is titled after is actually the source of inspiration for the looks, and somewhat the character, of Robert Dudley. (I think upon watching the video, he will be easy to pick out.) I literally have no idea who he is, and I even tried at one point to change his looks because honestly, he doesn't look much like the real Robert Dudley. But I couldn't. Somehow his character is wrapped up in his face, and I can't separate the two. So this is one of those places where the author claims the privilege of artistic license. :) 
> 
> The video is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-eR6v2zcy4c 
> 
> The song is in French, and the video is of a Renaissance-era ball. Appropriate in all cases, I thought, to accompany this chapter.


	19. Chapter 19--Love's a Hard Game to Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fiasco that was "dinner", Victoria and William come to an understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Heat Advisory!* Read with caution. Do not read at work. 
> 
> "The problem here is not my fear  
> The trouble is you can't convince yourself  
> For tonight, let's lose the past  
> Make love last - Put our worries up on the shelf
> 
> We've been through thick and thin, and back again  
> And we can endure love's sweet pain  
> Remember, starting the fire is easy  
> The hardest part is learning how to keep the flame
> 
> Love's like walking a real fine line  
> You get too close and you'll go blind  
> Let go too long and it will drift away
> 
> Love's a hard game to play..."  
> (Stevie Nicks, 1991.)

Chapter 19—Love's a Hard Game to Play

 

“Drina? Drina!” William finally escaped the banquet hall but Victoria was nowhere to be seen. She was in full flight, and ballocks, but he didn’t even know if she knew where she was going.

Fortunately he caught the sound of her small little feet echoing down the empty, dark corridor and he sprinted after her. He finally arrived in their personal shared rooms a moment after she had.

“Victoria?” he whispered into the darkness after he’d closed and bolted the door. She hadn’t even lit so much as a candle. He was about to light the fire at least when he heard her personal door close softly.

He paused, momentarily at a loss. She had never run from him before in the whole of their relationship. He went to her door and soon heard a loud sniffle.

That was it. Hesitating no further, he opened the door and closed it softly behind himself.

There was enough light in the room from the moonlight streaming in through her widow that he could see her silhouette against the window frame. She was clutching her arms about herself and shivering.

He lost no time. Crossing the room in two great strides, he swept her into his arms and seized her mouth in a searing kiss.

Victoria tensed beneath him, but shortly let out a sigh against his mouth and shuddered in his arms before melting against him.

He kissed her and kissed her, pouring his anger and his fear and his longing and regret all into the kiss. But it was not enough. For either of them.  He could feel the violence, the defiance in her as well as she opened her lips below his in an irresistible invitation. He took it instantly, plundering her mouth, the taste of her making him wild with need.

She moaned and shivered in his arms, stoking the fire inside of him even higher. His need was so great he felt himself no longer a man, but a ravenous beast, desperate to sate his hunger and claim what was his.

The vixen in his arms responded in kind, and he was lost.

They said nothing. There was nothing that needed saying with words. All the reassurance they both needed and hungered for was beyond the ability of words to provide. He took her in his arms and carried her to her bed, the little mewing, needy noises she was making stoking the fire inside of him to an unbearable level.

He wanted her naked. Now.

Wanted to spread himself over her like a great dark beast, cover her writhing, moaning, perfect little body in his strength and power. He and only he could ease her suffering. He and only he could give her everything she needed. Could make her howl and roar with ecstasy. She was so deep inside of him and he inside of her that they had become as necessary to each other as breathing. Maybe more so. He wanted her more than he wanted his next breath. Wanted to rip her dress from her body with his bare hands, shred it for having the barefaced cheek to come between them, the effrontery of covering her beautiful body when he wanted that job for himself.

But with great restraint, the last vestiges of man that existed in this red haze of lust managed to carefully remove it without damage and toss it away from them onto the floor. With growing desperation he forced himself to handle the rest of her blasted undergarments with the same care, until finally, gloriously, she was bare again. His again. Lying shivering with cold and lust beneath him, the blue of her eyes swallowed in black, all for him. Only for him. She was his, and only his. Designed for him. Made for him to love. Made to complete him.

He growled like the beast he was as she began removing his clothes. He could care less what he was wearing. These blasted Renaissance garments had one thoughtful feature which made things so much faster than disrobing. But his little vixen wanted him naked too. So he permitted her to unclothe him, drinking in the sight of her lust as she fumbled with buttons and ties, grunting and crying in frustration when her nimble little fingers could not release the buttons and strings fast enough. She wanted him so badly she could not think. Could not wait to see him all, and feel him all. To know she desired him so deeply was honey-sweet balm to his wounded heart. 

When the last of his clothing was tossed away, she purred and moaned and poured herself against him, and he had to acknowledge that her idea was so much better. To feel her sweet softness pressed all along his body was to taste heaven. He was so hard and so ready for her that when she wrapped her delicate little hands around him he almost lost it. He shook violently and seized her hands in his. There was no time for foreplay. No need for it.

He pressed her hard against his body, gripping and kneading her beautiful little bottom in his hands, as he nipped and kissed and licked her gorgeous swan-like neck.

She pulled away from him, wrapping her hands in his hair and pulling his head down, giving him her breasts. He obliged with relish, wrapping his hot mouth around the cool round buds, licking and sucking and teasing until she was crazed.

God, how he wanted her!  Every way. He wanted to cover her whole body with his mouth, wanted to bring her the way he’d done earlier. And he wanted to be inside of her at the same time. Some of that though, would have to come later. He was too far gone to worship her like she deserved. Too damn needy for himself.

So he pushed her back onto the soft coverlet, covered her and entered her in one great thrust. Bloody hell, but he was so close that was damned near all it took! He paused, utterly still, hoping she would not take matters into her own hands and move against him. He needed a moment to recover, or it would all end embarrassingly soon. But oh dear God, how good she felt!

Her hands were all over him. Caressing, touching, feeling, encouraging…loving him. Oh God, she loved him! It no longer mattered how or why or whether or not she should…it only mattered that she did. And he needed her love so badly!

He turned his face into her palm in utter submission, his tears wet against her skin, his breath ragged.

Beneath him she uttered one word, whispered and soft and lovely like the wings of a butterfly.

“William…”

In his name he heard everything he needed.  Invitation.  Desire.  Love.  Hunger.  Longing. 

NEED.

He moved, and oh dear God!  Reason left him, as did all sense of nobility or honor.  He existed only here. Only inside of her. Here was beauty. Love. Truth. _Home!_

She tensed around him and her body arched as she screamed her climax.

It was more than he could take!

He threw his head back and roared his release, coming and coming inside of her until he was utterly spent.

He flopped onto the bed beside of her, landing with a heavy thud. And immediately she was there, covering him with kisses, caresses and soft, beautiful words.  Slowly, William came back to himself, and placed his hand on her neck, bringing her closer, taking her lips again in a deep and glorious kiss.

“I love you,” he said, the words feeling and sounding so inadequate to express what she was to him. “You are life itself, my Queen,” He caressed her beautiful face, smoothing her silky hair back from her face. “I can…never love another.”

“Nor I,” she said, her beautiful fingers dancing over the planes of his face. Tracing his brows. His cheeks. His jaw. When they brushed his lips he opened them beneath, pulling her fingertips inside of his mouth and licking and sucking until her eyes crossed before releasing them.

“Better?” he said, propping himself up and running his hand over her shoulder, her arm, pleased when she shuddered beneath him and gooseflesh appeared in the wake of his touch.

“So much better,” she whispered. “For you too I hope?”

“It is a good start,” he said, grinning.

“Am I to understand that you have determined we will make love all night tonight, and then carry on tomorrow as if nothing ever happened?” She raised a playful eyebrow as she trailed her hands down his chest.

Bloody hell, he was growing hard again!

“Well, if you wish me to leave…”

“No I do not, and you know that quite well!” She was laughing now.

“Mmm, do I?” He nuzzled her.

“You should by now,” she purred.

“What if I don’t? What if I need convincing?”

“What would you have of me to convince you, my Lord Melbourne?”

 _No_. He would _not_ ask it. He would never ask it. Under no circumstances would he ever ask such a thing of her.

But ohh, a man could dream.

He caressed her lips with a fingertip. Such soft, beautiful lips she had. He was blindsided by a wave of lust again.

_No. I will not ask it._

Victoria grinned at him, a wicked grin that sent even more heat to his groin as she captured his hand with both of hers.

He watched in fascination, in utter slow motion, as her lips parted beneath his fingers and drew his index finger between them, into her mouth.

A moan escaped him and his eyes closed. _Dear God!_

He was transfixed. Frozen to the spot. Utterly at her mercy as she wrapped her tongue around his finger and…sucked.  His eyes closed again and he hissed in a sharp breath.  Her soft mouth...her velvet tongue swirling and rasping around and around his finger...her beautiful lips...he opened his eyes, watching her, enraptured.  His vision growing red with lust, his groin throbbing with need.  “Victoria,” he breathed. “Oh my girl…my dear, dear, girl…you should not…that is…oh bloody hell…”

She released his finger with pop of her wet lips.

“Does that feel good…Lord M?”

He couldn’t answer. He was doing good to draw breath.

“Ooh! How very…interesting!” She said, her eyes fixed on his face, drinking in his reaction, her pretty, sweet lips curved in a wicked little smile. She contemplated his hand again, and then repeated the same process with his middle finger.

His head fell back and he swore. Oh bloody, bloody hell, she was good at that! And he entranced and utterly under her spell. His breath was coming short, his mind flooded with a thousand delightful, wicked images, none of which was making the problem any better.  

_Oh yes, a man could dream…_

Victoria purred, and continued her attentions to his finger. Slowly. Before moving down to his ring finger. And his little finger. And then his thumb.

He was flat on his back when she was finished, incoherent with lust, gazing up at her with something like wonder.  

“Had I known you enjoyed that so much, Lord M, you would have been in serious trouble when you were ‘just’ my Prime Minister.”

“Oh dear God in heaven…” he said. “I think it is a very good thing that you did not discover that little trick until now…Ma’am.”

“What would you have done to me? Would you have punished me?”

A moan escaped him.  

She giggled. “Scandal of the world: ‘Queen sucks the fingers of her Prime Minister…reduces him to tears.’”

“No indeed Ma’am. The scandal would have been what your Prime Minister did as a response.”

“What would you have done as a response?”

He grinned. No, he wasn’t going to. He absolutely was _not_ going to.

“Lord M, you are gazing at me so wickedly. What ever are you thinking?”

He couldn’t do it. Not to her.  Instead he flipped her over with a squeal and rolled her onto her belly.  He gazed at her a long time, running his hands over her smooth round flanks thoughtfully. Then he covered her and thought no more.

* * *

Victoria fell to the bed, gasping and weak. William rolled toward her, gathering her into his arms until she lay with her head on his chest, trembling all over from exertion.

“Oh God,” he said beneath her, his syllables slurred, “My Victoria. How crazed you make me.  How I love you my darling girl!”

She rolled to kiss his chest, her shaking fingers running through the fuzzy hairs. Exhausted and finally spent, she was no longer able to hide from what had happened tonight. She closed her eyes hard, but her tears would not be denied.

“What is it, My Love?” he said in a voice sweet enough to shatter her heart in thousands of shards.

“Robert Dudley has asked me to marry him,” she whispered.

He went very still beneath her. “Did you…accept?”

“No.”

She felt him release a breath.

“Well,” he said simply, “that was fast.”

“It was. I did not think him serious at first. But now I believe he was.”

“And you promised to let him teach you to dance tomorrow—bloody hell!”

“I tried to cancel but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Of course he wouldn’t! He wants you.” William sat up, dislodging her, running a hand through his ruffled hair, resting his arms on his knees and staring off into space. “And all alone at a deserted end of the palace, with me out riding with the Queen, he can have you. And he knows it.”

“No, he most certainly can not! What do you take me for?”

He gave her a lopsided, sad smile and then gathered her into his arms again. “A bold, courageous and beautiful young woman, who does not yet know enough about the ways of men to be wary of their tricks.” He held her close, cuddling and kissing her. “It is not your fault, My Love. I would not have you think I blame you at all.”

“I did at first, but not any longer.”

“I am sorry I gave you that impression.”

“No indeed. I am sorry I jumped to that conclusion.”

“I was most ferocious with you earlier tonight, when we were yet in the hall. Can you forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive, my love. We are both feeling the same things.”

He pulled her into his lap, slid her between his legs, wrapping his body around her protectively. Victoria sighed and relished the feeling of him all around her.

“He means to corner you tomorrow,” he said, his cheek against her hair. “To have you off, alone and unchaperoned, where he can back you into a convenient corner, kiss and pet you into a frenzy of heat so that he can take advantage. He undoubtedly has worked out that we are lovers, and that you are new to the world of men and sex, and therefore you are awakened, but still fairly innocent. Your tender emotions and newly discovered desires make you more susceptible to temptation. He means to seduce you outright, Victoria. To bed you, then use your ensuing confusion and guilt to convince you that I do not love you, and you do not love me. He will place himself as a wedge between us both, point out the Queen’s favoritism toward me, fill your head with bunk about how I am probably bedding her too until you doubt me, and yourself, and everything in the world you’ve ever thought you’ve known before. And then he will pressure you into accepting his offer of marriage.”

“I do not want Sir Robert Dudley. Not in any way!”

“I know it, My Love. And I daresay he does too. But with the arrogance of men, he will also be confident that once he has planted himself inside of you, he will be such an amazing lover that he will erase your heart of me entirely. He will brand you as his own, and you will respond to him and him alone.”

“But that is ridiculous! No man could ever erase you from my heart so easily!”

He laughed outright, and curled her even more tightly into his arms.

“Have I told you how much I love you, my beautiful Queen?”

“I do not want Sir Robert to…’plant himself inside of me’!”

“Mmm you are so beautiful. And so wise. And so adorable, do you know it? Have you any idea how much I love you…Ma’am?” His voice rumbled against her hair.

“Lord M, be serious,” she said, giggling. “This is a very serious business!”

“I know…” he said, nuzzling her.

“I think your mind is wandering,” she whispered, smiling at the evidence growing before her eyes that he was no longer interested in conversation.

Before she knew what had happened, she was flat on her back on the bed, with her former Prime Minister looming over her, gloriously naked, and wearing a very self-satisfied expression on his beloved features.

“Have I not told you before, Ma’am, how susceptible I am to flattery?” He purred before his lips landed on hers.

“How have I flattered you lately, My Lord Melbourne?” she said, breathless as he released her.

He didn’t answer, but covered her mouth with his.

* * *

“I don’t want you to meet him,” he said, sometime later, his words slurring as he caressed her arm lightly.

“Robert Dudley?” she raised her head from his chest to ask, then let it fall back with a thump. “But I do not know what to do to get out of this now.” She stroked his chest beneath her cheek. How easy everything in life seemed when she was lying in his arms this way! She breathed a deep sigh of contentment. “This is all I want. You. Me. Like this forever.”

He took a deep breath too, and kissed her on the top of her head.

“In the morning, after I leave, bolt yourself in our rooms. Do not stir forth until I return.”

“Should I send a message?”

“No, and be damned to him.” He continued stroking her arms softly up and down.

“But if he comes looking for me?”

“He will have to break down the door, and then explain to Elizabeth how he assaulted you in your own rooms, which he cannot afford to do. No, if you stay in here with the door bolted, you should be quite safe. Just do not allow him to serenade you at your window, or talk to you through the door. Tell him you are sick, then retire. By the time I have returned from the ride I will escort you into dinner and all will be well.”

“Except you will be called to Elizabeth’s side as ever we walk through the door,” she stated.

“But I will be there. Watching. And he will know it.” He increased his hold on her. “It is quite different than having you alone when I am miles away and unable to return.”

“I do not wish to stay a prisoner all day in here without you! While you are out riding with her and I have nothing to distract me from my own thoughts about what that entails.”

“So you wish to distract yourself with Dudley?”

“No upon no account!”

“If you stir forth, do you not realize that he will be upon you no matter where you go? You can decide not to show up at the appointed hour but he will still find you. The only place you are beyond his reach is here.” He curled his arms tighter around her protectively.

“But I cannot remain a prisoner here, Lord M! You of all people should understand my hesitancy to do this! My entire childhood I spent as a prisoner in my own house!” She pulled away from him.

“It is only for the one day!”

“Until she asks you again for tomorrow. And the day after that.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“We do know that! She will not permit you out of her sight! And while you are out with her, day after day, getting to know her, spending time with her, talking to her the way you used to do with me, I’ll be sitting here in this little room, counting the dust motes waiting for you to return! And you are wholly commendable to this idea!” She moved away from him entirely, hugging her arms around her chest.

“Victoria I don’t want her! Surely you know this!”

“Not at the moment. But what is to say that after you spend so much time with her you will start to favor her over me? You will have feelings for her the way you did for me…when I was your Queen.” Her voice broke.

“You will always be my Queen!”

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. Suddenly she could see it so clearly. So clearly. He was all but defending Elizabeth to her already. It would take time, but it would happen. He would admire her and have deep conversations with her and then find himself quite overcome with love for her.

“I will stay here, fading gradually. Becoming no more interesting than that bedpost, whilst you will be quite enraptured with her beauty, her elegance, her vibrancy, her cleverness and her intelligence. Until you can no longer remember what you ever saw in me, or indeed a life that did not have Elizabeth in it.” She shivered, not daring to look at him, for fear his eyes would echo the truth she felt had just poured from her own lips, damning herself. “It would be the same, did we marry, and you took me away somewhere. She would pull you back to her. And leave me in the country to rot. To become an unimportant, uninteresting, and wholly inconvenient wife. How long before you found your way into her bed then even?”

“Victoria!”

She did not look at him, but stooped to find her shift on the floor.

“Victoria, please…!”

Still she ignored him. She had just enough time to throw her shift over her shoulders before he chased her, scooping her up and into his arms.

For the first time ever, she resisted him. His touch suddenly more painful than she could bear.

“Victoria, I would never—”

“--I will lose you to her!”

“You will not!” He held her in a vice grip, too hard, but Victoria knew it was his fear. “I will never love any woman ever again! Only you. Only you, my darling!”

“I wish I could believe that,” she said in a small uncertain voice. It felt like an Earthquake had opened up the ground at her feet and threatened to swallow her whole. The idea that she could lose her Lord M in truth, lose him entirely…it was more than she could bear. And yet she felt the truth of it with a bone-deep certainty.

“It is not about who is Queen at the moment! I do quite love you for yourself, Victoria.” His eyes were brimming with tears.

He was so sincere. Now. She reached up to touch his face, the pain in her heart slicing through her every breath. To lose him…would be to lose everything that ever mattered to her. But now that she had spoken it, she saw it so clearly. She caressed his eyebrow, trailed her fingers down along his face. He would be so sorry, so sorry. He would not know how it happened. He would cry and beg her forgiveness. He would be overcome with guilt. And yet none of it would change the awful truth. And he would feel nothing for her but sympathy, and perhaps a lingering fondness for the girl she once was—that he once knew and loved a lifetime ago.

“But all the things you love about me you would seek to smother,” she whispered. “If I waited around for you this way every time she took you away…I would never leave this room. And I would lose all that you once admired, until you quite wondered what it was you had ever seen in me to start with. And I was quite mad with grief and loss.”

“You know I would never permit you to become thus!” He captured her hand in his and kissed it.

“I cannot compare to her, even at my best! How could I hope to keep you under such a circumstance?”

“Victoria—”

“You cannot even deny it!”

“Because I cannot get a word in edgewise! Damnation, woman!” He covered her mouth in a kiss.

Victoria’s knees buckled, but she pulled away from him, her mind in too much agony to be kissed into submission.

“No! Not this time!”

“Listen to me! Listen!” He caught her again, the tone of his voice desperate. “I—love—you! Not a thousand Elizabeths could come between us. Do you hear me?”

“Tell me you do not admire her! Tell me again how that light I saw shining in your eyes as you looked at her tonight was all an act!”

“I do admire her, but not as you suppose!”

“It is enough! It is a beginning!” She said, tears filling her eyes. “It was the same with us.”

“It was not the same.”

“No. No you are correct. For you would never dance two dances in a row with me at a ball, no matter how much I begged! And I was Queen then!”

“The circumstance was not so dire! I was my own man in our time. And the days of sending courtiers away to the Tower for refusing a monarch’s request were in the past.”

“So you were free to reject me! Perhaps I should have threatened you with the Tower more often, Lord Melbourne!”

“It would not have commanded my heart, Your Majesty, only my obedience. Is that truly what you seek? Only that I satisfy your every little whim?”

“My ‘every little whim’? What about Elizabeth’s ‘every little whim’? Or is every ‘reasonable request’ she makes a ‘little whim’ when it comes from me?”

He broke away from her and ran a hand through his hair.

“Did I say that Elizabeth had ‘reasonable requests’? Did I use those words, Majesty, or did you provide them for me?”

“Tell me I am wrong!” Her eyes were swimming with tears so that she could hardly see him. “Tell me why you never dance more than once with me, and with her you have already danced more in one night than we have ever done together for the whole of our acquaintance?”

“Because I did not dare to dance with you more, Majesty! I wanted you—too much. Already your reign was in danger, partly because we spent so much time together. The scandal…”

“…Is much greater now, I think.”

“Doubtless,” he said breathlessly. “I know—in light of our current status, it seems a small point. But at the time it was not. All eyes were on us. I could not—presume—”

“I begged you,” she whispered.

“You were drunk, Victoria. And I was…weak that night. I might have taken advantage of you.”

“You never would.”

“I wanted you! Oh God, how I wanted you in that moment, Victoria! One moment longer and I would have kissed you, and then been utterly…lost.” He sat down on the bed again, shoulders slumped.

“I wanted you to kiss me! I willed you to kiss me!” She sat next to him.

“I know,” he whispered. “Trust me, I knew it. But we were both in a vulnerable state that night. You from drink and euphoria and me from sadness and loss…and then from holding my own little rainbow in my arms and sweeping her around the dance floor. I could hardly believe I dared so greatly. And yet I wanted…so much more. I wanted to taste you. I wanted to press you into a dark alcove and cover you with kisses until both of us were swimming so deep in lust that I could have you up against the wall and take you then and there. To drink in your surprise, your pleasure at my hands, to bring you your first climax…oh dear God, Victoria, you will never know how badly I burned for you that night. Long after you retired, and I left the palace. I told you I could not put the feeling of your little hands from my mind. I could close my eyes and see you there before me, clutching at my jacket, pulling my body next to yours quite unconsciously, without knowing what you were doing, your eyes as deep and blue as the sea, gazing up at me with your sweet heart shining in them. I felt myself drowning in your eyes, swept out to sea a hopeless castaway, lost forever.”

He studied his hands thoughtfully. “If you believe me capable of falling for Elizabeth the same way, you do not truly understand the depth of my feelings for you. I have known many women, Victoria. You know this. But I’ve never felt for any of them the way I feel for you. There was a time in my life I could have admired Elizabeth, as you suggest. But that time ended the day I met you. My heart is so wrapped around yours now that if they were both laid out before us, I could not begin to separate them.” He turned to her, stroking a finger across his brow. “I have no heart to give her, you see. Because it is already yours.” He laughed without mirth. “If you tried to give it back to me now, there would be nothing left in any case. One way or another, Victoria, my heart is in your hands, my very life at your feet. That cannot change. No matter how many times Elizabeth forces me to her side. My body may be with her, but my heart is ever with you.”

He sighed, throwing up his hands in that little gesture of defeat that she always found so enchanting. “Go tomorrow then. Keep your appointment with Dudley. You are right in one respect—I cannot make you prisoner here. I owe you your freedom, at least. No matter how badly I want to hold on to you. You are not the only one with fears, you see. I have them too. I saw the way you danced with him. I saw the way you looked at him. As if surprised that he could make you feel…anything at all. And yes, my darling, he did make you feel. No matter how you may deny it to yourself and to me. You did feel, and he knows it too. I could so easily see him kissing you, fondling you, making love to you and…stealing you quite away from me. His youth and vigor, and…that air of wickedness that some women find so alluring. He has it all. You are young and vibrant. And so is he. And I am not. I cannot compete with him. Once you taste what he has to offer, you will no longer want…me.”

He swallowed hard, contemplating his hands in his lap. “But that is the ultimate test of love, is it not? For the lover as well as the beloved. To set your love free, to see if it flies back to you, or carries on alone, or with another. I guess that is where you and I find ourselves, My Love. Will we survive this test, I wonder? There is no help for it, though, clearly. It has come to it, and as you quite rightly observe, there is no way we can spare each other, or ourselves. Therefore we must each be brave, and trust that our love is genuine, and will see us through.”

“Oh my Lord M!” Victoria threw herself into his arms. “My sweet William! Forgive me!”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he whispered, breathing deeply as his arms circled her. “Nothing at all…now that you are back in my arms. Where you belong.”

“I should never have doubted you!”

“It is your fear speaking. I know. I know my darling!”

“It is. I am so afraid! I cannot bear the thought of losing you!”

“You cannot lose me,” he smiled then. “So therefore do not waste any more tears in the speculation of it.” He brushed the tears from her face. “I will never desert you, my love. Not a thousand Elizabeths could lure me from your side.”

“Hold me! I need you so…”

“I know…I know my love.” He tightened his grasp around her. “I need you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A loong chapter this time, sorry! (These two would not settle down and just have a conversation!) Hope you enjoyed it anyway! I'm happy to be back with these two. It's been a long time!


	20. Chapter 20--Silver Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria attends the Queen's levee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “She was a girlie girl  
> Caught in a man's world  
> And as her world turns  
> She feels so alone
> 
> Still she's a danger girl  
> Insane far beyond her years  
> On some things she's very clear  
> She's a wild adventurer
> 
> Sometimes she was just an actress  
> But you'll never really know  
> Shadows move across her face  
> You cannot see her soul…unless she lets you  
> See her soul…”
> 
> (”Silver Girl”, Fleetwood Mac, 2003).

Chapter 20—Silver Girl

First light was barely visible when William dragged himself out of Victoria’s bed, removing himself and his things to his own chamber in time before the servants appeared to help Victoria dress for the day. It was a very near thing, Victoria thought with almost a giggle. The door to William’s room had just closed softly when she heard the first raps upon her own door and the maid appeared to help her.

If the maid suspected anything, she did not say a word, merely helped Victoria to bathe and dress, and finally dress her hair, and with relief Victoria saw she was no longer expected to wear the hideous court make up.

She met William in their common room for a light breakfast before setting out. He was so handsome in his tall riding boots and dark green and black doublet that she blinked back tears.

“You look…very handsome this morning, Cousin.”

“And you are as beautiful as ever, Cousin,” he said, his lips pulled into a sad smile as he regarded her soft, robin’s egg blue gown slashed with white. “The dress accentuates your eyes most…becomingly.” He swallowed as his eyes met hers, his lips twitching with emotion he would not express here. Even though they were still in their own rooms, William suspected there might be listening or spy holes yet undiscovered, and so they conversed carefully.

“As your doublet does yours, I believe,” she said.

How she wanted him to kiss her! To take her in his arms and ravish her! To remove her to the bedroom and…

They had only just parted a few hours ago, and already she hungered to have him back again. Longed to touch him, to feel his touch anywhere on her body. Everywhere.

Her feelings were mirrored in his eyes.

She saw in their depths his kisses, his hands on her body again, him moving deep inside of her…

Oh yes, they were both thinking the same things.

“Shall we not take some food? It is like to be awhile before you get to eat again, Cousin,” she said, licking her lips involuntarily.

He took in the movement and cleared his throat, eyes still fixed on her mouth.

“Indeed it is…Cousin,” he said, raising his eyes to hers at last, his meaning crystal clear.

They ate quietly, both filled with melancholy at what each other’s day entailed.

“When do you have to report to the Queen’s levee?”

“Within the hour, I believe.”

He nodded, eyes dropping to his plate.

“Then I shall like as not see you in Court this morning.”

“I would assume so, Cousin.”

“And again tonight at dinner.”

“I think that would be logical to expect.”

“Take care, today,” he said, gripping her hand suddenly and very tightly in his. He held her eyes as he stroked her hand with his thumb. “I hope as your Cousin I may offer you a measure of warning? Sir Robert may not have honorable intentions. You must guard yourself most carefully with him.”

“I assure you, Cousin, I shall be on my guard, for your sake as well as for my own.”

“I may not return until the evening meal. I would…never forgive myself…if something were to happen while I was away…”

“I shall be fine. I promise, Cousin.”

“See that you are,” he said, tears brimming in his eyes as he raised her knuckles to his lips. “My darling girl.”

“I shall,” she said, swallowing hard. “Trust me.”

He smiled a little for her, and raised her hand to his lips again. “Your…welfare…is very important to me, you know.”

“I know. As yours is to me…Cousin.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes on their joined hands. “I do not like it. I cannot pretend to like it. And I shall not be easy until I see you again this eve.”

“I shall remember your words and do as you say, my Dearest Cousin,” she said, covering his hand with her own. Then in German, she whispered, “Take care of yourself today, as well. For my heart goes with you this afternoon ever as yours does with mine.”

He kissed her hands fervently again, and they gazed at each other a long time, both of them brimming with things unsaid, until there was a knock at the chamber door, and Victoria was summoned to attend on the Queen.

* * *

She arrived at the Queen’s levee just in time. The enormous chamber was full of women, each at a particular station, designed to assist the Queen with everything from choosing her outfit to assembling it. Victoria of course, was acquainted with the customs of the past, but she had to admit her heart went out to her predecessor. She didn’t know what she would do if she had to face this army of women everyday just to get dressed.

She was met at the door by a tall, thin, dark-haired woman, elegantly attired in a gown of orange silk heavily embroidered.

“Viscountess Alexandrina!” the woman glided toward her, her dark eyes and white teeth glittering with insincerity. “Do come in. Welcome to the Queen’s levee. I do hope you forgive my assertiveness, but I’ve been simply longing to meet you! I am Lady Caroline Hurst. My husband is Sir John Hurst. Perhaps you’ve heard of him.”

“I am sorry. I have not yet had the pleasure.” Victoria looked Lady Caroline over with distaste. She knew women like this in her own century. Some things apparently never changed.

“Oh my dear, we must rectify that immediately! He is a member of Her Majesty’s Gentlemen Pensioners, a very close member of her personal guard and a Knight of the Garter.”

“I see.” The woman oozed false charm so much Victoria had to will herself to smile. Even her name was offensive, Victoria reflected. But she schooled her face into a semblance of friendliness and smiled. “Indeed we must,” she said succinctly. “I thank you, Lady Caroline. Perhaps you will be so good as to acquaint me with my duties now that I am here.”

“Oh I cannot do that! For that must come to you from Lady Stafford. She is Her Majesty’s Mistress of the Robes. Come. I shall be delighted to introduce you.” Wrapping Victoria’s arm in the crook of her own in an overly-familiar fashion that was repugnant, she briskly walked Victoria through the melee toward a delicate-looking woman near the center of the room.

Lady Dorothy Stafford was as slender as Lady Caroline, though perhaps not as tall, with dark red hair and brown eyes that were kind, but with the watchful alertness that comes with great responsibility. She was helping to choose the Queen’s sleeves when Lady Caroline presented Victoria.

“Ah yes of course, Viscountess!” Lady Stafford came forward and took Victoria’s hands with a genuine smile. “Welcome! I am delighted, my dear, delighted. I am so sorry about the fate of your poor husband.”

“Thank you, Lady Stafford,” Victoria said hastily, remembering her back story. “Indeed it was most unexpected.”

“Of course, of course!” Lady Stafford patted her hand frantically in a motherly gesture. “It must have been a dreadful ordeal for you! Simply dreadful! Still. God’s blessing was upon you, and His Hand has guided you here to our shores, where you shall be well looked after, under Her Majesty’s care.” She patted her hand with a smile. “Indeed you’ve come to a safe and wonderful haven here. And you are blessed indeed to be so young, because you will most certainly marry again.”

“Yes. I know it is my duty, and yet…”

“Oh. Poor child, yes! You were fond of your husband, I take it. Aw, it must be so hard! Ah! But I am forgetting myself! We have to make ready for the Queen. My dear Viscountess, since you are already acquainted with Lady Caroline, perhaps you will assist her in helping Her Majesty with one of her wigs? And I hope that we perhaps can talk a bit later? I should like to better our acquaintance very much.”

“Thank you, Lady Stafford,” Victoria said, feeling herself relax marginally. Lady Stafford seemed to be genuinely kind, one of the most genuinely kind people Victoria had yet met since landing in Elizabeth’s time. “I should like that very much as well.”

“Good, good. It’s settled then. We shall talk later. But for now, run along, and be ready to assist.” And with that, Lady Stafford hurried back to the choice of sleeves for today’s Court dress.

Lady Caroline, again by looping arms with Victoria, dragged her away to the closet holding all of Her Majesty’s elaborate hair pieces. Victoria knew of course, that Elizabeth I was famous for her lavish wardrobe and opulent style, but she was unprepared for the scale of it. The closet was almost as large as the throne room at Buckingham House, and housed only the Queen’s wigs, headdresses and accessories.

She stood in the doorway, awed.

“Oh, but I am forgetting! You will not have seen anything this grand, perhaps, in Prussia?”

“No. Indeed not,” Victoria answered, aware of Lady Caroline’s dark, over-bright eyes on her and her condescending tone. Victoria could practically feel Lady Caroline eagerly feeding on her every reaction, recording every detail to relay to her fellow gossips later. “You are forgetting. I was not at Court in Prussia.”

“Oh yes, I remember now. Well. One does get used to it, fortunately,” she said, with a conspiratorial smile. “Of course, with four or five changes of wardrobe in a day, Her Majesty simply must have a wide assortment of hair pieces and accessories, so that she can always look her best, without undo repetition. Ah. This one might do nicely for this morning in Court. Very elegant, don’t you think?”

It was a wig of highly piled curls, festooned with drop pearls and clusters of diamond pins artfully arranged in floral patterns.

“Yes,” Victoria agreed. “The diamonds will undoubtedly catch the light from the windows and look quite glorious.”

“I agree,” she said obsequiously. “Let us put forth this one.” Lady Caroline carefully removed it from it’s pedestal, and replaced it onto a waiting pedestal clearly designated for the wig chosen to be worn that day. A commotion at the end of the room created a stirring throughout the chamber.

“She has arrived,” Lady Caroline informed her. “Oh my dear Viscountess, I am so very sorry that you cannot see over the crowd! That must be so frustrating, being of such…modest…height! Her Majesty’s procession is always such a sight to behold! But…do not fret. I will be pleased to acquaint you with Her Majesty’s progress through her levee.”

“Thank you, Lady Caroline,” Victoria said almost through gritted teeth. The woman was intolerably patronizing. “I am greatly obliged to you for your assistance,” she said, trying to swallow her indignation. However unpleasant a woman, it would not due for Victoria to make enemies among the ladies of court at this stage. Not until she at least had some kind of standing herself.

So she braced herself and listened as Lady Caroline commented endlessly on everything. When Elizabeth at last made it around to their station, Lady Caroline dropped a very elegant curtsy before the Queen and smiled.

“Your Majesty,” she said in her somewhat nasally voice, “The Viscountess Alexandrina has joined us this morning to assist with your levee.”

“Your Majesty,” Victoria curtsied as well before her predecessor, “I bid you a very good morning.”

“Viscountess!” Elizabeth inclined her head regally, and Victoria was alarmed to see a frostiness in her gaze as she looked on her. “How charming you look this morning. You are quite recovered from last evening’s revels, we see.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” She replied.

“We are delighted to be riding out with your charming Cousin, Our Lamb, later this afternoon.” She smiled, and her smile was like the twist of a knife.

Aware of Caroline’s greedy eyes on her, Victoria inclined her head and schooled her features into her most diplomatic, Queenly smile. “I know he is only too happy to be of service to Your Majesty, as am I.”

Elizabeth nodded, a small smile, almost triumphant, played around her lips.

“Your Majesty, the Viscountess has personally selected your hair piece for today. She thought it would look splendid in the morning light.” Lady Caroline indicated the wig on the stand. 

Elizabeth’s countenance darkened, like a thundercloud covering the sun. 

“I cannot wear that! I wore it but only two days’ hence!”

“Indeed, Your Majesty, as I tried to tell the Viscountess. But she was so insistent!”

Victoria hissed in a breath as she saw, quite clearly, but far too late, what Lady Caroline had done, fully knowing what the outcome would be.

Lightening flashed in Elizabeth’s eyes as she turned her glare onto Victoria. “As you are new to our levee, perhaps it would more benefit you to be less insistent, and take the advice of those ladies far more experienced than you!” She turned placid, but still angry eyes to Lady Caroline. “Fetch us the one with the bird’s wing headdress, and quick about it!”

Lady Caroline disappeared with a curtsy to do as the Queen instructed, but not before she turned a triumphant smirk towards Victoria. 

Victoria kept her eyes down, but her cheeks throbbed with the ferocity of her shame and anger. Inside she was seething. How dare they? How dare they all? 

She stood back while Lady Caroline adjusted the Queen’s wig onto her head, and then the Queen moved on to the final stations where she was fitted with her final layers and jewelry.

Lady Caroline had the audacity to return to Victoria’s side.

“Oh dear oh dear,” she said, tutting exaggeratedly. “What an unfortunate beginning! You know, once Her Majesty finds favor—or disfavor—among her courtiers it is very difficult to shift her opinion. Particularly among her ladies, who do not have the benefit of being very fine looking men. You will have a time making this up to her, I do fear--”

“--Lady Caroline,” Victoria said, no longer looking at her and adopting her own most regal posture. “Are my duties here concluded?”

“Well, yes, apart from joining the processional march into Court.”

“Which I can do from any position in the room?”

“Of course.”

“Good. In that case, I bid you good day. It has been a most—educational—morning.” And with that, she turned her back and walked as briskly and as proudly as she could away from the vile woman, who watched her progress across the chamber without even bothering to contain her rude laughter.

She met Lady Stafford, quite by accident on her way to the most secluded corner she could find.

“Viscountess,” the woman took her arm, concern written in her features. “I feel I should tell you it isn’t wise to insist on any matter pertaining to the Queen’s dressing.”

“I didn’t insist. It was Lady Caroline’s suggestion. I merely agreed the wig was beautiful.”

"Indeed."  Lady Stafford frowned. “In that case, I am very sorry. I feel responsible for sending you to work with her. Caroline can be quite charming when she wants to be, but she does occasionally behave in a most perverse fashion. It was probably her idea of a little joke.”

“Well I for one was not laughing!”

“No indeed. It was very wrong and small of her, I agree.  I will have a word. In the meantime, you may assist _me_ tomorrow. I will not give her another opportunity to discredit you so shamefully.  And we will set about what we can do to restore the Queen's favor to you.”

“I thank you. That is most kind.”

“Here now. Stand with me. We shall go into the processional together.”

* * *

The procession soon was underway, and Victoria walked alongside Lady Stafford down the long corridors that led to the Presence Chamber, where she and William had first been granted their audience with the Queen. After entering the Chamber, the ladies dispersed, and Victoria, not wanting to be seen and particularly not caring overmuch if she saw the unfolding events, found herself standing in the background throughout the morning as the Queen listened to petition after petition and ruled summarily.

At one point, William wandered nonchalantly to her side.

“Cousin,” he nodded to her in greeting.

“Cousin,” she returned.

They shared a conspiratorial smile, and Victoria felt heartened at what she saw brimming in his eyes for the brief moment they looked upon each other.

“How did the levee go this morning?” He asked her quietly.

“About as well as could be expected,” she returned. She could feel his eyes on her, but he said nothing more. Then, softly, ever so softly, she felt the back of his hand brush her knuckles where their arms both hung at their sides. The gesture was enough to bring tears to her eyes. It was all the encouragement he could dare offer her here, but it was enough.

“Courage, Viscountess,” he whispered in German, as he moved away. “Remember who you are. I love you.” The last part was so soft she could barely hear it, but it helped buoy her spirits considerably.

Her heart was in her throat as he gave her that encouraging little nod he had always given her when she’d felt afraid, and moved away.

Her heart went with him as she watched him cross the room. It was going to be a very long day—the first of many, she thought bleakly, where she would have to manage without him.


	21. Chapter 21--Hungry Like the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chase is on as Lord M goes riding with Elizabeth I and Victoria takes dancing lessons from Sir Robert Dudley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Stalked in the forest, too close to hide  
> I'll be upon you by the moonlight side…
> 
> High blood drumming on your skin, it's so tight  
> You feel my heat, I'm just a moment behind…
> 
> Burning the ground, I break from the crowd  
> I'm on the hunt, I'm after you  
> Scent and a sound, I'm lost and I'm found  
> And I'm hungry like the wolf
> 
> Strut on a line, it's discord and rhyme  
> I'm on the hunt, I'm after you  
> Mouth is alive with juices like wine  
> And I'm hungry like the wolf…”  
> (Duran Duran, 1982).

Chapter 21—Hungry Like the Wolf

 

The afternoon came all too quickly.

After lunch, Melbourne found himself on horseback, his heart left behind him at the Palace as he rode out in the company of the very grand and majestic, yet entirely wrong, Queen of England.

“You are very quiet today, Lamb.” The Queen observed. “I expected more from you after last night.”

Yes, perhaps this was it, he thought. Be as boring as possible. Let her eyes wander back towards Dudley and away from himself.

“I do apologize, Your Majesty. But a man of my age and temperament can hardly be expected to carry on lively conversation all the time. I am after all, of advancing years. And simple country gentlemen like myself are unused to entertaining Queens.”

She laughed, again like the sound of silver bells, and the amusement quite transformed her face into something more carefree and girlish.

“But that is perhaps exactly why we are so entertained, Lamb. We find you amusing and refreshing. And not at all as old as you claim to be.”

Damn and blast, he thought. That could hardly have gone worse if he’d tried.

“Perhaps it is more of a feeling of one’s age than what shows on the outside, Majesty. The creaking in one’s joints, the pains of a winter’s eve. And when the damp sets in, my old bones ache most abominably.”

“Perhaps it is merely a matter of…treatment, Lamb. Surely with the right physic you will feel hale and hearty again.”

“I very much doubt it, Your Majesty. My old father had the same trouble, you know. And within a twelvemonth of its onset, he was bent nearly double and so twisted and gnarled you should hardly have known him for the strapping man he once was.” If his situation wasn’t so dire, Melbourne thought, he would laugh himself silly at the yarn he was spinning so effortlessly, and at the stunned reaction upon Elizabeth’s face. At last, he thought, I’ve given her something to think about. Maybe now she’ll look away…

“That is…very sad, Our Lamb. And you say the same trouble has now beset you?”

“Well, as near as I can tell, Majesty. I remember how he used to complain of a night. Alas, it comes to us all in the end, I suppose. But then, you know what they say. A short life, but a merry one, eh?”

“No,” she said somewhat circumspectly, “We are not familiar with that expression.”

“Ah well. I suppose it is too vulgar a phrase to have ever come to your ears. Please forgive me, Your Majesty.  But as I have said, I am but a simple man and so lacking in courtly manners. I fear I have blundered abominably by mentioning it to yourself.”

“Think not of such things,” she said, smiling again. “As we have said, we are refreshed by your company, Lamb. There is something so artless and easy in your manner that we find very appealing. And despite your statements to the opposite, we find you have a lively mind and a witty discourse that is highly amusing. We find we like you very much--Our Lamb.” She favored him with a smile.

William swallowed. Damnation, but the harder he tried, the more it backfired upon himself!

The sunlight was brilliant in the Queen’s fiery hair, and set her tawny eyes alight as she looked at him. She was a very attractive woman, he allowed. The sort of woman indeed he had always found attractive. Elizabeth had had a hard life, and he had admired her reign and her strength of character for as long as he could remember. And now here she was, paying him the very great compliment of liking his company--and here he was, working devilishly hard trying to divest himself of her good opinion.

He could laugh out loud at the irony, but he did not dare.

Not that she was more attractive than Victoria. She was not, and never could be. His dearest girl was simply adorable, and he did adore her—body and soul. No indeed, no woman in the world could compare to his beauteous little Queen--past, present, or future. His heart was hers forever, but he did not dare allow his thoughts to linger on her in the presence of this woman, so he swallowed his feelings and gazed intently at the road as the horses walked together.

“I thank you, Your Majesty, for the complement. I am deeply honored by your regard.”

She smiled in a most enigmatic way, and turned her attention to the road, so that William was left wondering whether he had pleased or displeased her at last.

“For a man who only rides through necessity, you have an exceptionally fine seat, Lamb,” Elizabeth said finally, smiling at him in something like challenge, lips curving upward in a flirtatious smile. “We had expected you to be more awkward in the saddle than you are. Especially for a man so plagued by gouty pains, as you claim.”

His eyebrows lifted ironically. “I daresay it’s more due to the whim of the horse, Majesty. I am no great hand with horseflesh. This one must be a docile creature indeed, as it’s given me no trouble at all.” He patted the blood-red bay beneath him absently. It was a beautiful horse, surely, with a deep red coat, black legs, mane and tail, and a white star on its forehead. It was a sharp contrast to the snow white horse the Queen was riding, and a damned sight prettier than his own rather ordinary-looking Sorrel stallion.

Her laughter pealed out in an almost indelicate way. “That is Mary you’re riding!” She spluttered in mirth. “Forgive us, Our Lamb, but she is the most bad-tempered nag in the stables, though she is a beauty. She is named for our sister Mary, who was known for having an equally evil disposition!” She was laughing so hard she could hardly keep her own seat.

William felt himself blushing. “Well, I cannot account for it. She seems very easy going today.” Bloody hell, he thought.

“Indeed, for we have never seen her so! We can only attribute you to the change, Lamb. It is your own charm, surely. Which is so strong that apparently not even female beasts can resist you, to say nothing of the ladies of Court!”

William’s face was by now on fire, and he found himself rendered quite alarmingly speechless.

“I am at a loss, Majesty, for I have never found it so before.” He huffed a laugh.

“We confess we are not,” she said, still laughing and shaking her head, “and we find we cannot blame her. We would allow you to ride us, too.” She shot him a glance so laced with meaning that he was shocked.

Once again he found himself reflecting upon her so-called unofficial title—the Virgin Queen. He had known a real virgin Queen in his own time, after all. Victoria had always flirtatious with him, perhaps, but in an artless way that betrayed curiosity and innocence and made her status rather obvious. But Elizabeth’s flirtation was entirely more—womanly. Knowledgeable.

Too knowledgeable for her to be what she claimed.

“You are grown quiet, Lamb. Have we offended you with our jest?”

“No indeed not, Majesty. I confess my mind was wandering.” He gave her a wan smile that he did not feel. Damnation! What he wouldn’t give to ride back to Whitehall, toss Victoria across his saddle bow and gallop away with her right now. It seemed the simplest, most expedient solution after all.

“It does surprise us, Lamb, how so handsome a man as you are can be so unaware of his power over women. But perhaps that is part of your charm. That you are so unconscious of it. Many men in your position would be so cock-sure and arrogant as to make themselves and their antics quite tiresome after awhile.” She sighed dramatically. “We are plagued on all sides by arrogant men. Save their very ornamental nature, we find them tedious company, and weary of them.” She looked sidelong at him. “Do you begin to understand, Lamb, what we see in you?”

“I confess I do not, Majesty. I am not arrogant, true, but then I have no reason to be. I have no title, no lands, no wealth, nor anything to offer save my own poor company. And I am not even ornamental.”

She laughed again. “Oh but there you are so wrong, Our Lamb. Indeed, we find you extremely ornamental. The most ornamental among all of our aged male companions,” she said, grinning, “As well as the most witty. We could go a long time before tiring of your company.”

He snorted a laugh. “I confess myself surprised at that, Majesty. My company is so very plain and unremarkable. Surely your tastes are more refined?”

“The more you declare you have little to offer, Our Lamb, the more convinced we become that you are very much the opposite of everything you claim to be. Why would you wish to dissuade us from our favor, we wonder? No other man would ever think of doing so. We are unsure if we are insulted or intrigued.”

“Truly I meant no insult, Your Majesty. I seek only to be honest. It is better that way, do you not think so? If I were to puff myself up and claim to be so much more than I am, you would grow disappointed very quickly, perhaps even angry at my misrepresentation. This way, at least, when your inevitable disappointment occurs, you can have the comfort of knowing that I was straightforward in the matter, and did not seek to mislead you.”

She smiled again. “And it is for that reason, Our Lamb, that we are not disappointed in you, nor are we insulted. But we are intrigued…and charmed as well.” She bit her lip, giving him another flirtatious glance.

William groaned inwardly. If the stakes were not so high, he would have laughed uproariously at the absurdity of his position. Someday, he hoped for the leisure of doing so. Perhaps reclining with Victoria in his arms, safely back at Brocket Hall in the library, reflecting upon their wild adventure into the past, he could then allow himself to laugh at the whole thing. Then he would gather Victoria into his arms and…

“Catch us if you can, Lamb!”

“Huh? Your M—” But before he could respond, she was off like a shot.

Bloody hell! He couldn’t let her go—he would be responsible, and yet if he chased her, she would call his bluff about the horses. Damning himself for a fool, he applied the crop liberally, and “Mary” took off in pursuit beneath him.

A scream up ahead spurred him on even faster.

* * *

Victoria arrived at the appointed hour to find Robert Dudley was indeed waiting for her. As it turned out, they were not entirely alone—a single violin player, a minstrel she recognized from the gallery last night, was in attendance also to provide the music necessary for a dance lesson. She was greatly heartened to see a third person in the room.

“Viscountess!” Robert Dudley strode across the wide marble floor to her beaming, rather dashingly attired in red and black. He raised her fingers to his lips, holding her eyes with his as he kissed her hand, lingering too long, and this time not even bothering to mask it. He squeezed her hand before releasing it, as if he were loathe to part from her. “You are right on time. Yet I confess it feels an age since I was last at your side.”

“Sir Robert,” she said curtly, in what she hoped was a distantly polite and aloof tone.

“Ahh. I see,” he said, eyes taking her in a little too keenly. “You have decided not to like me, after all. I wonder what role your _cousin_ had to play in that.”

“My _cousin_ is none of your concern, Sir Robert. You offered to teach me some of your English dances. I am here. That is all.”

“Ooh. Such finality in that tone. I could almost fancy I was talking to Bess. You positively dismiss me with a mere inflection. How very regal you are, My Dear.”

“I am not regal.  Nor am I your dear. Pray do not call me so. If you wish to dance, then let us begin. Otherwise, I have much to do elsewhere, as I am sure you do as well.”

“I assure you I have nothing more pressing or with such an important command on my time as you, Viscountess. I would stop the very world from turning for such an appointment as this.”

His dark eyes glittered at her and he grinned a positively devilish grin. She was struck again, unwillingly, by how very handsome he was. But he was not her darling Lord M. Not a thousand Robert Dudleys could hope to come close to his worth in her eyes.

“I thought we might begin with the Galliard,” he said, adopting an instructor’s official tone. “It is a fairly simple dance, once you understand the steps, but it also allows for a great deal of improvisation. And, it’s one of Bess’s favorites, so you will have ample opportunity to practice.” He flashed his killer smile at her. “Come. Let us begin.”

She stood by his side and he took her hand.

“The couple begins thus,” he said, bowing to her.

She curtsied in response.

“Now. Hands aloft, thus. The dance is a series of step hops. Like so.” He released her so she could watch his feet. The basic step was mostly a sort of little kick, she decided. A series of small kicks, followed by every sixth step a sort of midair double kick. They practiced as the violin played a lively tune, dancing from a side by side position until they were facing each other and he released her hand. When she had the rhythm and step down, he proceeded to explain the next part.

“So now you face your partner, and each takes turns dancing in place. This is where there can be a great deal of improvisation. Sometimes spinning. Sometimes a flourish of kicks. It is a way that one can show one’s partner how adept one is at the dance.”

So the violin played, and Dudley led at first, demonstrating the basic steps, and a few possible improvisations. He was a strong, athletic dancer, she couldn’t help but notice. His movements were agile and graceful, belied with a sense of power that was undeniably and forcefully male.

Victoria was light on her feet, and this was a dance suited to her small stature and youthful athleticism, as well. She found it was as easy as Dudley said, and once she understood the basics, she attempted a few improvisations of her own. Some worked well, some did not.

After a few flubbed attempts she found that she and Sir Robert laughed quite easily together, and she even succeeded in forgetting to hate him, for a time. He was a very patient and good teacher, and a very good dancer in his own right. When she’d practiced all the different pieces, they began again, from the starting position and progressed seamlessly through the dance itself, adding their own flourishes to the basic steps.  

“You dance beautifully! I would hardly know you were a beginner from watching,” he said, grinning as they finished—a genuine grin, born of sincerity and not his voracious, seductive grin. She found she quite liked him this way.

“Thank you, Sir Robert. But it is easy to dance well when one has a good teacher.”

“Indeed,” he smiled again and bowed. “I thank you, Lady, for the complement. Now. Are you winded? Do you wish to rest or are you ready for the next dance?”

“I am ready,” she said, smiling. The exertion felt good. Dancing felt good. She was beginning to feel quite her normal self a little, and she liked that.

“Shall we try La Volta?” He said smiling, “Or would you prefer the Gavotte next?”

“I have heard La Volta is a most shocking dance, Sir Robert. Perhaps we had better go on to the Gavotte.”

“It _was_ a shocking dance, until last night,” his eyes sparkled as he regarded her. “But I believe the Waltz to be far more shocking, Viscountess. At least in this country. Compared to the sort of dancing you are accustomed to, I think you will find La Volta very tame indeed. Come. You will see.”

The dance began in much the same position. The music tempo was much the same as the Galliard, only instead of a series of short hops, the dance steps for La Volta were longer, more like a gliding step, and there were fewer of them. Once she had mastered that, it was time for the next phase.

“Now. Instead of stepping, for the ladies there is a short leap. And your partner holds you, thus,” he put his hands on her waist—one on the front and one on the back, so that he was holding her sideways.

“So I leap, and you hold me up,” Victoria said.

“Yes that’s the general idea. And as you leap, you do a short kick with your toes extended, almost as one does when one is swimming. Ready?”

She nodded, and the violinist began to play again. She took a step, and at his command, she leaped. Halfway through the leap, her body weight shifted to his outstretched arms, and he supported her gracefully through the landing. They practiced a few more times, and Victoria found herself becoming accustomed to this new dance as well.

“Are there any improvisations at all with this one, Sir Robert?”

“Yes of course,” he gave her a sideways smile. “But that tends to be a decision made by both parties, as any improvisations you wish to make to the leap, I must be ready for.  But generally, when a couple has been dancing together long enough, it becomes easier to read one's partner and therefore there is still some spontaneity."

“What are some examples?”

“Well, sometimes your partner may spin you around during the leap, or you may wish to remain in the air a while longer, while your partner supports you.”

“That seems a little inconsiderate surely.”

“Not at all. Usually it is a very welcome modification. It is usually a great pleasure to hold one’s partner thus. A gentleman does not get many opportunities to touch a woman in such an…intimate…fashion very often. And to hold her waist is…a shocking intimacy. To feel her weight settle on your arms, is to feel her trust in you. It is very pleasurable on both sides, Viscountess.” He smiled at her. “To hold your partner longer in the air is merely to prolong the pleasure one feels in the dance. And who does not wish for pleasure to be extended?” His wolfish grin was back and he raised her hand to his lips again, kissing her fingers. “What do you say? Shall we try it?”

Victoria found herself agreeing, strictly out of curiosity. So they began from the beginning, and when he put his hands on her waist and she leaped into the air, he bore her higher, holding her aloft as he turned them both around before bringing her back down to earth. The dance continued, and he lifted her again and again, and she found each time she did, her heart soared as well. It felt good to be dancing, even in this strange fashion, and with a partner who did not mind teaching her and indulging her curiosity and willingness to learn.

On the last lift of the dance, he hoisted her higher still and held her longer. When at last he brought her down, he slid her quite down his body. Slowly. When at last her feet touched the ground her face was on fire. She had felt…every part of him. And what’s more he had wanted her to.

“Release me,” she whispered, looking up into his dark, glittering eyes. His arms were still around her and she was pressed close to him. Entirely too close.

“My God you are so light, I could hold you up forever,” he whispered. “You are divine, Viscountess. I confess I am quite overcome by you.”

“Sir Robert I—”

But she was unable to finish. His lips covered hers in a searing kiss.

Her eyes flew open. Wide. She struggled against his arms, but he had no intention of releasing her.

His lips moved against her, pleasurably. And ohh God no, she felt herself falling into his kiss!

She screamed against his mouth and he groaned.

“Oh, Alexandrina,” he breathed against her skin. “Your lips are so honey-sweet you rob me of breath. Angel! Give me my kiss again. ” His lips landed again on hers.

“Sir Robert, you must release me,” she pushed against his arms. “Please! I do not wish this!”

Her tone rang with desperation and his arms loosened instantly.  She staggered away from him, shaking in every limb, surprised to find his eyes filled with something like—remorse. Even alarm. But she did not stay to examine them any further.

“Viscountess! No, please wait! Forgive me!”

She turned on her heel and fled the room.

* * *

William reigned in his mount. Hard. Reaching out a hand, he captured the reigns of Elizabeth’s riderless horse and slowly brought both horses to a stop.

He found her on the ground not far away. Dismounting quickly by throwing his leg over his horse's head, he slid to the ground gracefully and hurried to her side.

“Your Majesty! Are you hurt?”

She looked up at him and shook her head, but he could tell she was in pain.

“Damned horse!” She said, “Spooked somehow and reared. I was taken by surprise.”

So surprised she forgot to use the royal we, he noted. But said nothing of it.

“Are you injured? Can you stand?” He held out an arm to steady her. She took his hand and used it to push herself up into a standing position.

“Yes, I daresay I can. I haven’t fallen from a horse since I was a ch-child!” She took a tentative step and cried out, crumpling.

“Your Majesty!” William caught her before she hit the ground, trying not to think where his hands were.

“Lamb,” she said, breathing hard. “Its my foot! I can’t put…w-weight on it!”

“Your Majesty, I think therefore I must carry you back to your horse. Do you permit me?”

“I do!”

Without thinking twice, he bent and slid an arm beneath her knees, and another around her shoulders and hoisted her up against his chest, ignoring the way she clung to him as he carried her back to the white horse, now placidly munching grass not far away.

He set her feet down gently on the ground near her mount, and she used the horse’s side to prop herself into a standing position while he repositioned his hands and helped hoist her back up into the saddle, giving her the reigns again. She positioned herself carefully, wincing at the pain.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Can you ride back?”

“Yes. I believe so.” She looked around herself, took an inventory of her rings and her general appearance. “I must look a mess.”

“Not in the slightest,” he said smoothly. And with her nod that she was ready, he mounted his own horse and they set a careful pace back to the palace. It was an entirely more quiet ride back than it had been on the way out.

“You must think me foolish in the extreme,” she said once.

“No Your Majesty. As I have told you, I ride only by necessity. I do not think much of the practice in general, for precisely the reasons you just experienced.”

“You are no inexperienced horseman, Lamb,” she said once. “Upon my life I’ve never seen such a graceful, easy dismount before. Nor such a bad-tempered old mare tamed as easily as you have tamed Mary. You ride with the ease and grace of a man who is very at home on horseback and rides often. You are far more than you appear. Or even claim to be, Our Lamb.” She sliced him a knowing look, devoid of all flirtation now. “Still. You have rendered us a great service just now. We shall not forget your kindness.”

“Surely I have done what any man would have done, Your Majesty, and rendered aid when it was needed.”

She just looked at him, and smiled, shaking her head.

“If only you knew, Lamb. If only you knew.”


	22. Chapter 22--Never Tear Us Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and William reconnect after the trauma of their separate days.
> 
>    
> *HEAT advisory* Do not read at work or in the presence of children.  
> Scene contains excessive naughtiness and some graphic descriptions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Don't ask me  
> What you know is true  
> Don't have to tell you  
> I love your precious heart
> 
> I…  
> I was standing  
> You were there  
> Two worlds collided  
> And they could never tear us apart…”  
> (INXS, 1988).

Chapter 22—Never Tear Us Apart

 

Victoria paced her room, and back again. Oh, where was William! Why were they taking so long to return?

Oh why had she not taken his advice, and kept to her room today! When would she ever learn that he was inevitably right?

The events of the afternoon played through her mind again and again as she paced, wringing her hands in her distress. Had she behaved improperly? Had she encouraged Robert Dudley in any way? She thought not, but…what if she had?

Worst of all she thought, as she touched her finger to her lips, she could still feel his lips against hers. Still feel the traitorous moment when she had stopped fighting and yielded beneath him, still feel the sensuous pull and slide of his mouth against hers…feel his groan all the way down into her toes…

She buried her face in her hands with a wail.

 _Oh William,_ she thought frantically, _can you ever forgive me?_

* * *

William made his way wearily back to their rooms, mopping his forehead carelessly with his sleeve. Dear God, what a day! What he needed was brandy…and Victoria. No. What he needed was Victoria. Damn the brandy. Bloody hell, he hoped her day had gone better than his!

To his delight, she met him at the door.

“Oh Cousin William!” she said, blue eyes shining up at him, wringing her hands. “You have returned!”

He closed the door firmly behind himself and barred it, and then without another word took his little woman into his arms and kissed her. Hard. Spy holes be damned! He needed her. Now.

“What is it?” he asked a few seconds later. “What has happened?”

She averted her eyes. “Nothing, really.”

_Dudley._

His blood boiled. Damn the man’s eyes! Had he touched her? Kissed her? How far had it gone?

He was damned-well sick to the back _teeth_ of Tudor England! Of Elizabeth…of Dudley especially. What he wouldn’t give to leave all of this behind and take her back to where they both belonged!

“Dear Cousin…tell me. I promise I will not be angry.” _With you_ , he silently amended. _Never with you._

“Oh William!” She bit her lip, blue eyes clouded, her hands fluttering like a pair of little pigeons, a tell-tale sign of her distress, he knew. His heart twisted in his chest. “I…didn’t mean for it to happen, it just…that is…”

He forced himself to be calm. With the skill born of practice, he schooled his features into a neutral expression and sat, patiently waiting, stroking one eyebrow thoughtfully.

“What happened?”

“He…I…”

He was in an agony of apprehension as he watched her struggle for mastery. Were they engaged? Lovers? What?

 _For God’s sake…please…_ he wanted to scream. _Just tell me!_

“It was during La Volta. Just like you said. He…kissed me. And I…think…I kissed him back.” She choked on a sob. “But he wanted me to kiss him again and I ran from the room and I kept running and running until I came back here and oh William I’m so sorry I have ruined everything and I don’t understand why I did it I really only want you and oh God William I’m so sorry I—”

He went to her without a second thought, took her into his arms and kissed her as if his own life depended on it. Because it did. She struggled momentarily in his arms with what he understood now was confusion and guilt, but soon she melted against him, kissing him fervently. He held her tightly in his arms, kissing and kissing her until he was convinced she was his again.

“Do you forgive me? Say you forgive me! Oh God!”

“Do not fret, My Darling girl. You have done nothing wrong.” He pulled her close against his heart, sheltering her, comforting them both. He lay his cheek against her hair softly, closing his eyes. She was still his. Thank God she was still his. He stroked her back and squeezed her against himself a little. _His._ His mind, his heart kept repeating the same word over and over again in an endless refrain: _His._

“But I think I kissed him back and—”

“It matters not,” he said into her hair as he held her, trembling in his arms. “Even if you did, I told you before. You are in a vulnerable state. You are easily seduced by the likes of Dudley. He is culpable, my darling, not you.”

“But I don’t think he meant to seduce me,” she said against him. “It seemed…genuine.”

That, more than anything she had ever said to him, hurt his heart. He closed his eyes against the pain. In the depths of his soul, what he feared most was not seduction, but a genuine turning of her heart away from him. That she would defend Dudley to him was the first indication that she might do just that.

“If so, that is not so hard to believe either,” he said finally. “I do not know how any man could resist you, My Darling. Even a man as jaded as Robert Dudley.”

“But I do not want him,” she sniffled. “You know I do not.”

 _Yes,_ he thought, holding her tightly, _you do not want him—now. But how long will it take before you do?_

* * *

Victoria sighed, melting into William’s arms.  He forgave her! 

This was all she wanted. All she needed.

She told him so, murmured into his chest, speaking the words straight into his heart. He petted and soothed her, rubbing her back, cupping her face gently into his hand.

His big, gentle hands.

She turned her face in his hand, and kissed his palm.

“Hold me,” she whispered. “Oh my love, please hold me.”

He led her to the fireplace, and sat in the nearby chair, pulling her soundlessly into his lap. She curled up around him, laying her head against his shoulder, nuzzling against him, breathing him in.

“I want to go home,” she whispered against his neck. “I want to go home so much…with you.”

He let out a sigh. “Ohhh my love. If it was only in my power to take us there.”

“I know. I know you would.” She wrapped her arm around his neck, burrowing in closer. “But even if we cannot, it is enough that you are here with me. If we must be in this horrid place, at least we are together.”

“I shall strive always to keep it so, Ma’am.”

She pulled back to look at him. “Do not talk to me like that. Not now. Now I am not Queen, I am only your Victoria. And you are not my Prime Minister. You are my William. It…distresses me when you address me so formally. It is as if you are holding me away from you.”

“No,” he whispered, “That was not my intention.” He drew her in and kissed her. Sweetly, with the utmost care, as if she was the most precious thing in the whole world, his lips caressed hers, soothing her, loving her.

Oh, here was the world itself. Everything that mattered. The only thing that mattered. Him. His taste. His scent. The feel of his heart brushing hers as his lips glided against her own. If she lived to be a thousand years old, she knew nothing—nothing—would ever feel as right, as perfect, as beautiful as her darling Prime Minister's kiss. Victoria melted into him. So hungry for his touch. For any taste of his love he would give her.

How could she have ever found herself kissing another man?  How could any other man even exist?

Her fingers drifted to the back of his neck, reaching into the soft curls that brushed his collar, toying with them, twirling them around and around her fingers.  How she loved his soft, luxurious hair!  How it curled so ferociously around his face.  How she adored playing with it, touching it, losing her hands in it, stroking the soft skin of his neck just below them.  By now, the feeling of every part of him was so familiar, and yet all the more precious because of it. Every inch of him she treasured--all the parts of him that were visible to the world, that she had so long admired and longed to touch and taste and explore, as well as all the secret parts of him that only she could see, and touch, and call her own.  She could not possibly express to him the depth of her feelings for him, not in a hundred years of constant loving.  Here was safety, sanctuary.  Understanding.  Comfort.  Friendship.  Warmth.  Acceptance without question.  Adoration.  Intimacy. 

Passion without end.

Oh, she wanted to stay like this forever! In his lap, cradled against his big, solid, male body, his mouth covering hers, his arms circled around her.  Here, nothing and no one could reach her…could harm her.  Here, all the trouble of the world melted away and was as nothing.

He released her, his eyes dark and luminous as her fingers stroked the course stubble line of his jaw, crossed the line of his stubble to touch the soft, smoothness of his lips. How she adored the rough and smooth places of his face, the different textures of him so fascinating, so wonderfully masculine, so delicious against her own skin.  He smiled against her fingers and puckered to kiss them, his eyes so full of love that it took her breath away.

She pulled him down to her, nuzzling his face with hers, their breath mingling, clinging to each other and the moment for as long as it was possible, drowning in each other, their hearts wrapped inextricably together. They didn’t speak for a time—they didn’t need to.

She reached for him, her lips finding his. Oh, how eagerly he returned her kiss!

“Have I told you lately how much I crave your kisses?” She whispered against his cheek.

He huffed a laugh and smiled, his eyes aglow as he gazed at her. “Well. If you didn’t care for them, you are very good at hiding the fact.”

She touched his lips again, smiling herself at the amused indulgence in his eyes. “How I used to fantasize about what kissing you would be like.”

His smile broadened. “As did I…Ma’am.”

This time, she did not mind his return to her old title. “I have missed your lips all day…Lord M,” she whispered.

His eyes ignited, sparking with green fire. “Far be it from me to withhold any pleasure of yours, Ma’am,” he whispered, kissing her again, long and languidly, exquisitely slowly, his lips open against hers, their tongues touching, mingling, tasting.

“Dear God,” he whispered at length. “How can it be that you are mine?  What have I ever done to deserve such a precious gift as you?”

“You must have been a very good boy somewhere a long the line," she smiled, touching her forehead to his. 

He smiled a little, sighing under her ministrations, closing his eyes. And she saw for the first time how weary he looked.

“I have not asked you about your day,” she whispered suddenly. “You seem tired, My Love.”

He nodded. “I am. For a certain little Vixen I know keeps me up all hours at night. But that is no subject of complaint.”

Her blood quickened at the look in his eyes when he opened them, and she smiled. “And she may again tonight. But first…tell me about your ride out.”

He dropped his eyes from hers, and the tiredness in him returned.  It seemed to permeate all the lines of his body suddenly, and her stomach flopped into her toes. Why did he avoid telling her, she wondered?

“There will not…be any formal dinner tonight, so you can set your mind at rest. You will not have to see Dudley again until tomorrow.”

“And you? Have you been called away again from me?”

He raised his eyes. “I have. But I have declined the invitation, pleading…an attack of gout.”

“Gout?” She choked on a laugh. “You?”

“Yes. Why is that so amusing?  I am an older fellow, after all.  Old men do frequently succumb to attacks of gout, I believe."

Victoria couldn’t help herself. She was spluttering with mirth.

“Oh my dear William! How I love you!  You are by no means either old, or gouty and infirm!"  She put her hand to her mouth to stop her indelicate outburst, but the very thought of such a complaint attached to the very robust, virile man on who's lap she currently perched was so exceedingly amusing she could not help laughing aloud for several minutes. 

He chuckled too, watching her with tender amusement in his eyes. “Well, I confess I was at a loss. I tried to claim I was a poor rider, but she saw through that in a shot.”

“Of course she did! She is an intelligent woman, after all!  And you are a prodigiously proficient rider, after all, Lord M!”

“Yes well.  She deliberately tested me and I fell into the trap.”

“How so?”

Victoria listened as he told her about the horse he’d been given to ride.

“Oh dear,” she said when he was finished. “Well now, perhaps you’ll believe me now when I tell you that you are not old, Lord M. Nor by any means unattractive. Not even to horses, apparently!” She couldn't help herself laughing again.  "I am sorry, do forgive me! Oh my poor darling!  How terrible it must have been for you!"

“God!” he threw his head back. “I cannot remember a time I was so mortified. At least your Uncle Cumberland was not in attendance, or even Robert Peel. They would have made a great deal of political hay from that remark of hers, I have no doubt.”

“No pun intended, of course.”

“No indeed.” He chuckled. “But there is more. I have to tell you what transpired after.”

Again Victoria listened, eyes growing wide as he related the events that lead up to Elizabeth’s accident.

“The poor Queen,” Victoria said when he had finished. “And so that’s why there is to be no official dinner?”

“Oh yes. Her ankle may be quite broken. I was not privy to the diagnosis, only to helping deliver Her Majesty into the arms of Sir William Cecil and on to her chamber.”

“So…after you carried her back, she invited you to—”

“Yes.”

Victoria stared at him, open-mouthed, understanding at last what he had been leading up to. “She wished to have a _private_ dinner with you...in her chambers?”

“She did.”

“And you pleaded gout to get away from her?”

“I did. Though I do not believe she believes me.”

“No. After such a display of your gallantry, strength and prowess I daresay she does not. No. You are her hero now.” She swallowed hard, gazing up at him, feeling her heart clench. “The way you were ever mine.”

“You honor me.  Far beyond my deserving with such praise."  He kissed her hand.  "I would wish to ever stay your hero, Victoria.  For you, I would crawl over cut glass to be so.  But I have no desire to be hers.”

“Nevertheless. You are.”

He smiled sadly. “I’m afraid so. Unless Dudley can do something quite heroic to top it.”

“Perhaps he will dine with her privately tonight.”

“Perhaps. But she did not seem overly pleased with him today.  Her comments indicated he was out of her favor, at least for the moment.  We must pray for an opportunity for him to shine before her again.”

“Yes we must indeed.”

“I tried, Victoria. God knows I tried. I tried to tell her I was old and tired and…”

“And she did not believe you. Of course she did not,” Victoria smiled sadly at him. “My Darling,” she smoothed his face with her hand. “Oh, my darling, darling man! You really do not know how beautiful you are, do you?”

“Beautiful, Ma’am?” He huffed a laugh, and brushed a finger across one eyebrow in that gesture she adored. “No. I think I can safely say I have never considered that a word that applies to myself.  It is, however, a word I wholeheartedly reserve for you.” He nuzzled her softly.  

“Still.  I am quite sure everything you said made you more adorable in her eyes than ever,” she sighed. “You would have done better to pass yourself off as an arrogant, presumptuous, ill-mannered lout.”

“Yes I can see that now.  Though such a performance, if convincing, would have doubtlessly landed at least myself, and possibly you as well, in the Tower.”

“Well. It is quite outside your character in any case, and would be impossible for you to believably act it out.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek, charmed by his sharp intake of breath at the touch of her lips. She smiled, and indulged herself fully in raining down adoring kisses on his cheeks, his eyelids, his eyebrows and forehead, his nose, his chin, his jaw and ears, all over his beautiful, beloved face, deliberately withholding her lips from his until she was properly finished, at last allowing him to capture her mouth with his and kiss her with passion.

He broke the kiss, touching his forehead to hers with a sigh.

“Do you forgive me, Victoria?” He smiled at her sadly.  "I feel I have failed us abominably today."

“For being your usual irresistible self?  Yes, I do forgive you. You cannot help it after all. But I am glad we do not have to put in an appearance tonight, for the Queen is quite angry with me enough as it is. And I have had quite enough of her and Dudley for one day.”

“Angry? How is she angry?”

Victoria related the events of this morning’s levee to him. His eyes sharpened with alarm and flashed with anger as she spoke of Lady Caroline’s deception and the Queen’s sharp rebuke.

When she was finished, he swore. Profusely.

“Good God Victoria,” he curled her against himself protectively. “I had no idea…”

“How could you have?” Things didn’t matter nearly so much as when he was here, she reflected drowsily, toying with the golden buttons of his doublet jacket thoughtfully.  Now that he was here, the events of the entire day seemed to be of no consequence. 

He was breathing hard through his nose, his eyes distant, calculating. And then he swore again. “And she has the nerve to try and make love to me only hours after—”

“It is not so much the Queen’s fault,” she heard herself say. “She was misled. It is Lady Caroline who is to blame.”

“You are generous, My Love.  I would not absolve her so quickly.  But even if you are correct, nevertheless, the damage is done. It makes things very dangerous for you,” he said softly. “And for her to ride with me today as if nothing had happened between you...it is very serious.  It would seem she has taken a dislike to you.  She might even be jealous.” He swore again.  "We must get you back in her good graces as soon as possible."

“Well. Lady Stafford, I think, is sympathetic. Surely that’s something back in my favor. She says she will help me regain the Queen’s approval.”

He nodded. “I hope she is sincere. And effective.” He sighed heavily and leaned back in the chair. “But there is more between you both than Lady Caroline's ill will.  There is Dudley. And now myself as well.  She sees you as a rival, Ma'am, for not one, but two of her favorites.  And if that is not changed, she may find a very permanent way of getting you out of her sight very quickly.  Too quickly, for me to be able to act."  He took a deep breath, and let it out with more profanity.  "This whole mess is becoming intolerable,” he said very softly. “We must find a way out of here, Victoria. For both our sakes. Or we may be lost to each other forever.”

“We shall not. For we shall not allow that to happen. I shall not allow it.” She raised up and cupped his face.

His eyes closed and he turned his cheek against her hand. “Oh my Darling Girl. But you are not Queen here. It changes matters, I’m very much afraid.”

“I know. But I do not care. I shall not allow anything or anyone to pull you from my side.”

She pulled him down to her, needing the reassurance of his lips, his mouth against hers, at the same time she let him taste her determination. She would not—would _not_ —allow Elizabeth and Dudley to come between them! Her kiss told him he was _hers_ , and no one else’s. Not ever.

“Never stop kissing me,” she whispered against him, “Oh my darling…how I need your lips against mine, you are the very air I breathe…”

He moaned against her, devouring her mouth with his, his hands strong and warm against her body. She could feel the heat of them radiating through her clothing, wanting more than anything to feel them against her bare flesh.

She shivered with pleasure, with anticipation, throwing her head back as his beautiful lips traveled down her cheek, over the line of her jaw and onto her throat as she buried her hands in the thickets of his hair.

“Yes,” she sighed, “Yes oh yes! I need you! I need you so. Kiss me everywhere! I want to feel your lips everywhere on me…please…oh please kiss me without end! Make love to me without end!”

He tore his mouth from her skin to take hers again, roughly.

“Not yet My Love,” he said hoarsely, his hands on her face as he gazed into her eyes, making her gasp at the desire she saw in them. “They will be bringing dinner soon. We must stop even this for now.  We must keep up appearances.  But after they leave…” his eyes were full of promise as he bent his head and tasted the fluttering pulse at her neck. “You will be mine, My Love. At last. And until dawn.”

“Perhaps…” she licked her lips as she gazed at his mouth. Already her skin felt cold for want of his kisses. “Perhaps I should retire early? I do not think I can be in the same room with you without touching you.”

He nodded. “Yes perhaps you should. It would give us both time to…recover.” He smiled at her a little ruefully.

“And you will come to me after they leave?”

“The moment they leave.”

“Then I will await your pleasure, My Lord, in my chamber.”

His eyes opened a little more widely at her choice of words and his smile broadened.

“Will you indeed?  What a lovely picture that does present.  Get on with you, you adorable, bewitching creature. Before I lose every last ounce of my restraint and take you here and now.”

His eyes were on her, darkening quickly with lust and love in that heady mixture Victoria was getting to know so well. It brought up a series of very pleasant images in her mind. She couldn’t help but give him her most wicked smile.

He groaned. “Dear God, the way you look at me. Do you not know how badly I want you right now? Right here?  How simple it would be to take you so? Woman you will be the death of me,” he said, voice husky.

“Tell me,” she said, lips parted. Her breath was coming in shallow gasps. “Tell me what you want to do to me now.”

His eyes grew even darker. “Victoria…”

“Please,” she gasped. “Tell me.”

He looked at her a long moment, as if battling with himself.  But Victoria saw the very moment she won the battle.

“I would bid you sit astride me,” he whispered, “spreading your skirts over us both. Then I would reach between us, loosen the ties on this infernal codpiece and remove it.  But because you’re so close to me, I might accidentally brush against you while I did it.  I might even lose my sense of direction entirely...once my hand is out of sight beneath the canopy of your skirts.  You never know where it might just end up,” he said with a grin, twiddling his eyebrows at her, making her laugh and groan at the same time.

“Ooh, and because you cannot see what you are doing, you might continue to have a bit of...difficulty navigating it's path, is that it?”

“Oh undoubtedly,” he said, his eyes hungry as he gazed at her. “It would probably take some time before I got my sense of direction right.”

“I see,” she said, wetting her lips. “And then what?”

“Well, once I was completely free of this damned thing, I would bid you come closer still,” he whispered, “rise up on your knees, and sink down upon me, taking me all in, until I was quite all the way inside of you.”

“Mmmm, then what?”

“Then I would have you ride me…Ma’am.  Hard and fast.  Until we both quite...tire of the activity.”

"Sounds a bit...dangerous, Lord M," she whispered, cocking an eyebrow at him and giggling.  "How could my stern and cautious Prime Minister suggest such a scandalous thing to his Queen!  What on earth would we say if we were discovered in such a compromising position?  Besides...you know as well as I do I would never tire of such an activity with you."  She nuzzled him and sought his lips with hers, sucking them lightly until he groaned against her mouth. 

"Bloody hell, Woman," he rasped against her cheek, "You make me crazed."  His eyes were almost drowsy as he regarded her.  "Well...perhaps if we were very quiet...and very quick,"  his hands were low on her hips, caressing, then rucking her skirts slowly up her body.   “As a matter of fact, this infernal codpiece is starting to...chafe.” He said, his hands at last landing on her thighs, under her skirts, sliding quite up to her hips, caressing her heavily, kneading her in his hands pulling her closer with each movement, making her head swim, and her body burn.

“Chafe, Lord M? Ooh dear, that sounds most...uncomfortable.  Restrictive and...confined...too, I should think.”

"Growing more so by the moment...Ma'am," he said, his hands on her legs, his eyes on her decolletage.  

"Such a state cannot be at all comfortable," she said, sliding her hands heavily over the velvet brocade of his doublet, too far lost in what he was doing to her to even loosen them.  "And I do so hate to think of my beloved...private...secretary in such a state of discomfort."

He gazed at her through eyes glazed with lust, entranced, too far gone to cease.  In this state, he was entirely hers to command.  To pleasure and enjoy.  How she loved him this way.  The heady rush of power intensified her own feelings, emboldened her.  To know this fine, handsome man that she hungered for constantly desired her so deeply...and that the slightest touch of her upon him and he was undone.  It was intoxicating.  He was utterly hers, and hers alone.  And she, his.  Elizabeth, as beautiful and regal as she was, could not ever see him this way.  He would never respond to her like this, touch her like this, speak to her in such a wicked fashion as he watched her with his heart and soul in his eyes, his body responding to hers beneath her, entirely given over to her as if her very own to command...

 _Hers_ , her heart sang.  _Her_ William.  _Her_ Lord M.  _Her_ lover.  She crawled off of his lap and then back on again, one knee on either side of him, holding his deep green eyes with hers as she closed the distance between them, straddling him brazenly, shamefully wanton.  He groaned as she rubbed her legs against his thighs and spread her skirt all around them.

“Perhaps we should…remove it, Lord M?”

“Yesss,” he whispered, never taking his eyes from hers. “Oh yesss...ohhh My darling girl...”

"But the servants...they will be here soon with dinner.  Should we not wait till...after?"  She bit her lip devilishly. 

"Minx," he groaned.  "Servants be damned.  Come here to me."   He seized her mouth with his, his kiss urgent, firing her blood as he slid his hand beneath her skirts, sliding up to grasp her bare hips, pulling her closer, spreading her wider against his very body.  Then he slipped a hand between them, slowly caressing the inside of her leg with the back of his hand. Undergarments of this period did not meet in the center, and his hand soon found her, exposed spread against him.  He touched her naked flesh softly at first, fingers touching her most intimate place, exploring her until she gasped. It was so deliciously wicked, what they were doing. His eyes were almost black with lust, and she was drowning in sensation, drowning in him…

"Bloody hell, you are so wet.." he breathed against her mouth, "So ready for me..."

She shuddered and groaned as his strong, agile fingers stroked and teased her.  He knew exactly how to touch her.  How to make her blood hot, how to burn her down to cinders and build her up again.  He was kissing her open mouthed, his tongue licking and tasting her brazenly, his mouth wet and slippery against hers, as wet and slippery as his fingers were against her elsewhere.  Oh, only moments before she had been in complete control.  Now he had reduced her to a state of utter helplessness.  Let the Queen herself walk in on them now. She quite frankly did not care who saw them, who heard them, who knew about them.  He was the only thing that existed in the world. 

“Oh dear, dear, dear,” he whispered against her mouth, “I am so clumsy. I can’t seem to even find the laces of this damned codpiece.  I think I have gotten quite lost elsewhere, and I cannot find my way out again.  I shall need...assistance surely...if I am to free myself...”

She groaned against him, no longer capable of speech.  He purred, pleased by her response.

She reached her own hands between them, landing beneath them, sliding down his body until she found him, straining beneath her hands.  It was his turn to groan as she loosened the ties around his codpiece, freeing him, hot and hard and huge in her hands. 

“Oh God.  Victoria, we should not be doing this now.”

"Do you wish me to stop?"

"You know I do not."

“We are so very wicked, you and I.”

"Yes!  Oh God yes...." He groaned against her mouth as she ran her hands over him, teasing him, stroking along his length in sudden, firm strokes until they were both so crazed with need and she couldn’t bear another second without him inside of her. She scooted closer, raised her hips over him as his breathing grew ragged in anticipation.  “Now. Come here. Oh my delicious, wicked little Queen…hurry, before they get here!”

At last. Oh, at last! Her eyes closed as he made a noise deep in his throat, and put his big hands on her posterior and pulled her forward and down, until he was fully inside of her. Oh, finally!  The aching emptiness inside of her was soothed.  He filled her completely, touching her in every secret place that made her feel so glorious, so perfect!  She quickened her movements, rising up and slamming back down on him, hard and fast as she had learned he liked, and his eyes soon lost focus and they both lost the ability to speak, until he threw back his head and cried out her name. She covered his mouth with hers and took his cry into herself, the sight and sound of him so wildly gone sending her over the edge. She came down on him hard, lost all rhythm as she came and came and came over him.

Such bliss!  Such bliss she had never, never known!  She kissed him deeply, her heart filled to overflowing with love for him, and only him.  At last her strength fled her and she whimpered, falling against his body, spent and trembling, aftershocks rolling through her.

“I never want you to leave me,” she whispered. “I want to stay like this forever...joined with you.  I am never complete without you."  She kissed his cheeks, his face.  "Oh my darling...my darling!  I cannot get close enough to you..." she covered his mouth in another deep kiss, relishing his strong arms around her, holding her against himself tightly.  So tightly.

"Nor I to you. "  He returned her kiss, a look of utter peace on his face.  "Oh my girl...my darling girl...how I love you so!"

“You’re trembling, Lord M.” She started, pulled back from him to gaze with surprise into his eyes.

He huffed a laugh. “I daresay I am, Minx. God, what you do to me! I am completely overcome.” He brushed a hand through her hair happily.

"Do not tell me you are too tired and spent to continue later!"  
  
"No, indeed, Ma'am.  All I require is a little time to recover.  I'm hoping this is a lovely prelude to what I hope will be another very delightful, if sleepless, night in your arms, My Love.”

“I certainly hope there are no spy holes in here after all,” she said kissing him again. “Otherwise I’m afraid our secret is quite out of the bag.”

“Well. We can hope there are none. We did do a quite thorough search after all, and saw nothing. Still. I suppose it is only a matter of time, after all, anyway. Dudley has already guessed at the truth of it. He has but to tell the Queen and all will be known.”

“Do you think he has?”

“No. Not yet. For it would create a firestorm that might result in our expulsion from court, at the very least. And he does not want that. Because he is still hoping to woo you away from me.”

“I do not want him. How could I ever want or love another man after what we have shared? What we have been to each other? No other man could ever equal you.”

“Oh, you are my angel,” he smiled, “Your sweetness charms me endlessly. Were I not so old and tired after such a romp as we have had I’d have you on your back beneath me this instant for a comment like that.”

"What, just like that?"  She grinned at him.

"Oh yes.  I had quite a wild and reckless youth, you know," he caressed her face with a smile, smoothed her damp hair back from her face.  "I am sorry we did not get to share it together.  I fear you do not get the best of my years, my darling.  If you had...things could have turned out so much differently.  So much for the better."  
  
"I do not think I could survive your youth, Lord M.  Truly, your present is quite...demanding." She grinned at him, and they shared a laugh. 

"Oh God, what I wouldn't give...," he sighed.  "But we must take what love, what pleasure we can, for as long as we have together.  Oh my dear, if I had it to give to you, I'd give you the whole of my life, do you know that?  Twice such would never be enough time to spend in your arms."

She stroked his beloved face, tears now threatening to choke her.  "I shall always love you," she whispered.  "If you ever leave me, I shall be very cross with you indeed."

He smiled sadly, pulled her to him to kiss her tears away.  "I would never leave you, Ma'am, unless I had no choice in the matter.  Or you send me away yourself.  For I could never bear to part with you voluntarily.  I am not strong enough."

She curled up against him, sighing to feel his arms around her.  A few stolen heartbeats more, then he pushed her up off of his lap with a lopsided grin, sending her on her way with a pat upon her rear to her room, and the promise of many happy hours to come.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Not abandoned by a long shot. 
> 
> Sorry about the long wait, everyone. I hope this chapter was worth it in some small way!!


	23. Chapter 23--Don't Wanna Lose You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and Lord M share some quality time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Sometimes it's hard to make things clear  
> Or know when to face the truth  
> And I know that the moment is here  
> I'll open my heart and show you inside  
> My love has no pride  
> I feel with you I've got nothing to hide  
> So open your eyes and see who I am  
> And not who you want for me to be  
> I am only myself, myself...
> 
> I don't wanna lose you now  
> We're gonna get through somehow  
> I don't wanna lose you now or ever  
> 'Cause baby, I've finally found  
> The courage to stand my ground  
> But if you want me  
> I'll be around, Forever..."
> 
> (”Don't Wanna Lose You”, Gloria Estefan, 1989).

Chapter 23—Don't Wanna Lose You

Victoria stirred and opened her eyes to find the first rays of dawn stealing into her room through the window casement. She groaned. Dawn meant he would be leaving her soon.

She nestled down under the coverlet as if to deny the morning’s existence and it’s claim on them both, snuggling closer to the man spooning up behind her, cradling her in the warmth of his big body. He was still sleeping. She could feel the soft rush of his warm breath past her ear, ruffling her hair. He snored lightly, just enough to be endearing, she thought with a smile. His arm lay heavy across her midsection, his hand flat against her belly, his other arm resting beneath the pillow. The feeling of his strong, naked body against hers was heaven itself. She never wanted this to end.

Victoria covered his hand with hers, caressing his strong forearm idly, her body soothed and replete, her mind drowsily drifting in pleasant directions. At least for the moment.

Their lovemaking last night had been fierce. Both of them had been almost frantic in their attempts to claim each other, to reassure themselves that they were each still here. They had fallen asleep finally in each other’s arms, exhausted but satiated. Her last memory was being so heavy in every limb that she could hardly move as he gathered her close to himself and curled his body around hers, like he had during their first night together.

Victoria smiled. Oh how adorably awkward he had been with her then! Trying to be gentlemanly and chaste, while he lay awake all night, quietly burning for her. She herself had been burning too, though she did not understand her feelings entirely at the time. Dear, dear man! How her heart felt full to bursting with the love she bore him! There was no one else for her. No one. No one could even come close to her darling William. How could she even draw breath without him in her day? In her life?

“Good morning, my darling.” A deep, raspy voice caressed her ear and she shivered.

“Good morning, handsome,” she whispered, attempting to nestle even closer to him. “I trust you slept well?”

“With you in my arms, and not so much as a stitch of clothing between us? Oh I slept most well. Most well indeed.” He nuzzled the back of her neck and landed a hot kiss on her cool shoulder. She shuddered.

He made an appreciative noise and drew her closer, his hand beginning to explore her again. “Dear God, how I want you. Morning, noon and night. I want you just like this…in my arms…in my bed…at my mercy…”

She cried out as his mouth landed hotly on her ear, squirming in his arms. His body was fully awake now, as was hers. She could feel his desire, feel his need, and it fed hers. She sighed aloud allowing him to roll her on her back and cover her. A pair of startling spring green eyes, fringed with thick, dark lashes met hers and she gasped, just before his lips and body claimed her.

* * *

“William?”

“Hmm?” He stroked her hair thoughtfully as she lay sprawled on top of his chest.

She took a deep breath. Why was it so hard to put the thought into words? “Do you think I…how long before…I mean…what if I should…” she sighed. The thought had been troubling her recently, and she had lately begun to fear very much that there might be certain consequences that went along with their lovemaking.

She felt him stiffen beneath her. The hand in her hair abruptly stilled, and came to rest against her head.

“William?”

For a time, he didn’t say anything. He just gazed at her, the expression in his spring green eyes unreadable. “Do not…worry about it, Victoria,” he said softly.

“But what if—”

His hand dropped from her hair. He raked it instead down his own face.

“What is wrong?”

He shook his head and then sighed, propping himself up on his elbows. Not meeting her eyes, he said softly, “there is…no need to worry for such things. Not with me.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

He didnt answer at first. He seemed to be searching for words. He raised his eyes finally to hers, hesitant and sad.

“You know of course, that I have had…other lovers…in the past.”

“Yes. Of course I knew that.” She said in a small voice. They had happened before they met, and yet, she did not like to be reminded of his life before her. Still she was jealous of any other woman who had ever touched him. Any woman who had ever made him even want to touch her. She bit her lip. It was not easy for him to speak of such things to her. However difficult this was for her though, she knew it was more so for him. So she sat quietly and listened. 

“And yet, how many children have I fathered?” His voice was pitched low. “Just two. Both with Caro, and in my youth. One died after childbirth. The other…was…ill, and then he died. I have had no others. Not before. Not after.” He turned his eyes to her, and she gasped to see the nakedness in them. “I have had many lovers, and yet none but one ever conceived.  I do not…believe…you to be in any danger of getting with child, Victoria. Not with me. You see, I do not believe I am…capable of making you so.”

She gasped. Somewhere deep inside, she felt a stab of grief more profound than she would have thought possible. She hadn’t realized before that she had wanted his child, wanted to feel him growing in her womb. A tiny person, whose very existence in the world was a lastly testimony to the great and abiding love they bore each other.  Someone who would belong to them both for all time.  Half of her, and half of him. 

Perhaps not now, but in the future, she had held such an outcome to be an inevitability of their eventual happiness. He would be her husband. And she his wife. And she would give him children again. Happy, healthy children, who would look up at her with his eyes and call her Ma-ma...who would run to greet their dear Pa-pa every evening, and he would bend and scoop them up whilst they squealed for joy, his face radiant with happiness as he turned and looked to her...

And she would have given him this. She _wanted_ to give him this.

It was something she’d never even considered wanting before. She’d been afraid of childbirth, indifferent to children, even repulsed by them. But now…lying here with William, the man she loved more than her own life, with her belly full of his seed and his luminous green eyes so filled with grief and regret, she did. She knew she did. So deeply did she love him that she _did_ want children. _His_ children. And for him, she’d go to the gates of hell itself…face any fear, any challenge to make him happy.  To give him back everything that had been taken from him. Even this. _Especially_ this. It would be so worth it all to see the joy in his eyes as he would gaze on them…and to know she had been the woman to give that to him again. To help heal the scars of his past.

Now it was not to be.

She swallowed hard, her eyes locked with his. She gasped, choked on the air. The pain in her chest was so thick and so profound she felt she’d just lost someone very dear. Someone she’d never had a chance to even meet, and yet now her life would be wholly different for their absence.

He watched her struggle, tears brimming in his eyes. “I should have told you before…but I was a coward. I thought you might not want me if—”

She didn’t think. She didn’t speak or let him finish. She dived for his face, kissing him hard. He trembled as he returned her kiss, wrapping her in the safety of his warm arms, their tears mingling, grief for what had been lost and what would never be tearing at them both.

“I love you,” she whispered between kisses. “It doesn’t matter my darling, it doesn’t matter. I love you so much. Nothing matters but that we are together!”

“I suppose it is for the best,” he said at last, trying to muster a smile, “it would be easy enough to explain for a little while. You could have become pregnant by your late husband. But in future…it would make our lives difficult until we get this mess sorted out at least.”

She placed her head against his. “I can do without children,” she whispered, “I cannot do without you.”

“Oh my girl!” He pressed her hard against his body, holding on to her for dear life. “Oh my darling, darling girl! How I love you!” He kissed her deeply, and for a long time neither spoke. “I am so sorry,” he whispered, “never more sorry than now. You are so young. And you deserve a man who can give you ch—”

“I deserve the man I love. And that is you. That is you…for better or for worse, William Lamb, Second Viscount Lord Melbourne…with or without children…I know without you I cannot bear to live. Everything else—anything else—is superfluous. Trivial. It doesn’t matter in the slightest to me. You are all that matters!”

“You are the dearest girl in the world.  I will make it up to you. God only knows how but somehow I will. I promise.”

“There is no need. Just promise me you will never forsake me, whether I am ever Queen again or not. Promise you will never lose interest in me…”

“As if such a thing were possible!” He stroked her hair and smiled, his expression clear. It was to Victoria as if the rainbow had appeared finally after the rain. “No. I shall always love you. To distraction. Till my final breath, and beyond.” He took her face in his big, warm hands and kissed her again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, Everyone! As always I love your comments!


	24. Chapter 24--It's No Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord M makes a bet with Elizabeth and Sir Robert Dudley finds Victoria alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I'm going to take my time  
> I have all the time in the world  
> To make you mine  
> It is written in the stars above  
> The gods decree  
> You'll be right here by my side  
> Right next to me  
> You can run but you cannot hide
> 
> Don't say you want me  
> Don't say you need me  
> Don't say you love me  
> It's understood  
> Don't say you're happy  
> Out there without me  
> I know you can't be  
> 'Cause it's no good…”  
> (”It’s No Good”, Depeche Mode, 1997).

Chapter 24—It’s No Good

 

“Ha! We have won again!” Elizabeth clapped her hands in an expression of girlish glee and grinned happily at her gaming partner.

“So it would seem, Your Majesty,” William acknowledged with a lift of his eyebrows as he shook his head. Whatever else Elizabeth was, she was certainly a prodigious backgammon player. “I believe you have gammoned me quite handily in the process.”

His opponent giggled as she began placing her pieces on the board again.

“Well,” she owned with a lift of her golden eyes to his, “When one has to spend countless hours in prison, one learns to be good at diversions such as Tables. Certainly a fate I hope you have not had to endure, Our Lamb.”

William huffed a laugh and said nothing. It had become a sort of a game of it’s own, her fishing. She was trying to get him to betray himself in an offhand moment. Something, anything with which she could either use to make up her mind about him or, as the case may be, use against him. But he knew her tricks. And she knew he knew. That had become even another game.

“If I may say so, you have weathered that storm most regally, Your Majesty.”

She laughed as well, acknowledging her defeat on the larger board.

“We do as we must,” she said with a smile. “For Providence has seen fit to bestow this life upon us. We cannot but therefore do our utmost toward His ends. Do you believe in Fate, Lamb?”

He raised his eyebrows again inquisitively. “Who is to say? If Your Majesty had asked that question of a much younger William Lamb, he may have laughed at its merest suggestion. But as I grow in years, I find my opinions are far less firmly held than they were in my youth.”

The Queen laughed again. “You speak of your youth as if it were entirely past. It has not, as we continually remind you.” Her eyes flashed coquettishly at him. “Still. One is often opinionated in youth. Experience, more than age, we feel, tests and tempers our beliefs until they are proved either entirely correct, or entirely foolhardy. It takes maturity to recognize that one is fairly frequently mistaken. Do you not agree?”

“Most assuredly.”

“We feel that as one matures, one also seeks maturity in others.”

“Without a doubt.” He gave an inward sigh. He knew where this was going. Again.

“We find younger, brasher heads around us most tiresome. For while they may possess a face unmarred by the passage of time and trial, and a body pleasing and lithe, their speech and conversation is by its very nature, tedious.”

He gazed at her thoughtfully. Dudley and Elizabeth were roughly the same age, he knew. Suddenly it began to dawn on him that she was not speaking of Dudley at all, but of another person who was far younger. A cold chill ran down his spine. What did she know? What did she suspect? In either case, this didn’t bode well for his little queen. Victoria must indeed, be out of favor. A state of affairs that was dangerous in the extreme.

“Not always,” he said, “for on occasion, youth can have it’s own kind of wisdom, shot through with a strong dose of courage that is sometimes lacking in the gray-hairs that surround it. One thing about the certainty of one’s own opinions is that it does bring with it a strong sense of confidence, which begets in turn courage. Maturity needs the confidence and courage of youth to occasionally remind it that in some cases, one must act decisively.”

“Agreed,” the Queen smiled. “Well said, Our Lamb. Perhaps, on the strength of your eloquent defense, we shall not cast out our younger courtiers after all.”

He huffed a laugh. “Most wise of you, Your Majesty.”

“Shall we play again? This time, we should like to issue you a wager, Lamb.”

“A wager? For a game of Tables, Your Majesty?”

“To make it more interesting.” Her golden eyes flashed in challenge. “Do not fear, Lamb, that we would wager for money. We know you have none.”

“Indeed,” he huffed a laugh. “For anything in my purse that might jingle would belong to Your Majesty in any case.”

“We are more interested in your favors, than in your coin, Our Lamb.”

“Favors, Your Majesty?” Dear God, he thought with a shiver. Just how much would be required of him if he lost? And how the devil was he to get out of it?

She bit her lip and lowered her eyes, her cheeks growing pinker. He groaned inwardly. Whatever the asking price was going to be it wasn’t going to bode well for him. Or his poor Love.

“If we should win,” she said, _sotto voce_ , “we should require the favor…of a kiss.”

His guts twisted then relaxed a bit. Only a kiss. At least it was only that. Such could be managed fairly impersonally, without too much compromise.

“You will kiss us…here,” she said, pointing to her mouth. “With feeling.”

He swallowed hard. His guts clenched again, and he suddenly felt sweat break out on his brow.

_Bloody, bollocking hell!_

The air in the room was much too close. He turned to his wine glass to buy him some time to compose an answer. To fight the rising panic in his mind. He felt cornered, trapped neatly like a rabbit in a snare, watching the hunter’s approach. He did not want this! He did not want Elizabeth! And he would have to tell Victoria. Dear God, what would he say to her?

“I see,” he finally managed to choke out.

“We have shocked you, Lamb?”

“I…yes, a little, Your Majesty.”

Her cheeks were pinker and she did not meet his eyes. Bloody hell, he could read it in her face! What was it about his poor self that two separate queens found so attractive? He could have laughed out loud for the absurdity of it, had it not captured him so neatly in such an impossible situation.

“Do you not wish to do this?” She whispered, fiddling with her hands in a way that reminded him so much of another, far more precious queen. And yet, he felt sympathy for this woman. In many ways, Elizabeth was still, and he knew, always would be, a prisoner in a tower. Gilded though it may be, she was a very lonely figure, longing to be human and loved like any other woman but doomed to always walk alone. Her safety and peace of mind, and the prosperity and security of an entire nation, had certainly called a high personal price from this remarkable woman.

“And what boon will you grant me, should I win, Your Majesty?” He asked, neatly dodging the question.

“What boon should you ask of your Queen, Lamb?” Her eyes were on him again, and she was no longer a lonely girl, but a Queen in every sense of the word.

He took a deep breath, heart hammering. Delicately now. Very delicately. Should he put a foot wrong…

“I ask…nothing for myself. Only, on behalf of another.”

“Oh?” Her voice had turned icy.

_Not good._

“My cousin feels that…she worries…she has displeased you, Your Majesty. She is…heartbroken in this contemplation. She admires you so very much, you see, and your opinion of her means the world to her, for good or for ill. She has been in tears of late, feeling she has so displeased you and cannot ever recover your good opinion. She wishes very much, for you to smile on her, Your Majesty. For she has taken you very much to her heart as her sovereign, her savior, her Queen.” Well. It was almost true, he thought.

“We see,” the Queen said simply.

He raised his eyes to hers. She was studying him, her eyes sharp, shrewd and calculating. But he had played his card. He could say nothing else, but only wait her verdict.

“You are very concerned for your cousin, Lamb.”

_Damnation!_

“Yes of course, Your Majesty.”

“We are told you are very protective.”

“I am her guardian. It is my duty to protect her.”

“But for how much longer, Lamb? What will you feel, we wonder, when she does secure a match?”

“If it is the right match then, I should have no objection.” _Truth,_ he thought as he took a sip of his wine. _And I am that match._

“Ah. The right match. Yes of course.” She took a drink from her own goblet. “But you see, Lamb, we are not the only one whom the Viscountess has a great affection for.” She turned her eyes to him. “Are we?”

Carefully. He must proceed very carefully here.

“The Viscountess is of an affectionate nature, Your Majesty. But there has been…unkindness, unhappiness, in her life. When therefore she finds kindness in others, she is surprised. She naturally becomes affectionate towards others who are kind to her.” This was very close to the truth, he thought. It had always been the belief he’d held as to why she had come to love him to begin with.

“Such as ourself,” she stated.

“Precisely, Your Majesty. Which is also why she takes it hard when she feels she has displeased you in some way.”

“And yourself, Our Lamb.”

“Yes,” he said. No point in denying that much. It was too obvious, he knew. “It does extend to myself. And to others perhaps.”

The Queen smiled a little softly. “Our Eyes has that effect on many women, we own.”

Finally, he thought, there it was! The famous affection she had for Robert Dudley, whom history had recorded that Elizabeth called ‘Her Eyes.’

“We speak of Sir Robert Dudley, Lamb.” She said then, to clarify. “We believe he has become…enamoured of your cousin.”

“Does this trouble Your Majesty?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “We admit it does. Robbie has been our dearest friend since childhood. We are…very fond of him.”

“Understandably, Your Majesty.”

She smiled at him. “Perhaps we both find it difficult, Our Lamb, to let go of someone we know we must, when the time is right.”

He took a deep, steadying breath. Oh yes, Elizabeth saw all too clearly. Perhaps not the whole of it, but enough to know his feelings for Victoria.

“Perhaps we can…strengthen each other, Lamb, when the time comes?”

“Do you believe…That Sir Robert will offer for the Viscountess, Your Majesty? Surely not…she has nothing outside of the dowry you have bestowed to bring with her. No lands, no influence, no family connections…”

“She has herself,” the Queen stated flatly, “Robbie needs nothing else.”

The vehemence in her voice spoke volumes. His heart was beating so fast he could hardly hide his trembling. What was she telling him?

“Has he…petitioned for…?”

“No. He has not.”

He breathed easier.

“But you believe he may?”

“If he does, he dares much!” The Queen’s eyes were suddenly fiery. “He presumes much, if he dares ask us for such a thing!!”

His breathing grew much, much easier.

“I see. I apologize, Your Majesty. It was not my intent to disquiet you so.”

She sighed, twirling her rings around her fingers idly. “Oh, Lamb. It is not your fault we are disquieted. You do not unsettle us. You are one of the few people we know that does not. One of the reasons why we covet your company so dearly.” She smiled. “So. Do we have a wager then?”

He smiled. “I suppose we do, Your Majesty.”

“Good,” she grinned again and returned to the board. “This is one game of Tables I shall relish winning.”

* * *

The gardens around Whitehall offered her beauty and peace. Victoria sighed, fingering the delicate, velvety petals of a pristine, white rose and wished mightily that she was back at home again, receiving a bouquet of perfect white orchids from Brocket Hall.

That life seemed far away now. Like something from a dream. Was she ever Queen? Did she ever sit on a gilded throne, while the most powerful barons of England sank to one knee to place a kiss on her hand?  Or had her life began that night, as she stood frozen in the cold of a London fog, as William slew her would-be rapists and rescued her?

William. He filled her every sense so completely.  Had she ever lived in truth, before he had come into her life?  Or before the moment he took her into his arms and made love to her for the first time?

It had been a matter of hours only since they had last been engaged in the same activity, and yet she felt so lonely, so empty without him. The days were long. Longer still as of late. The Queen’s ankle had not been broken, so it appeared. It had been merely sprained. But her doctor, in an abundance of caution and knowing her proclivities to be active, had ordered her to bed for the next several days to better encourage more rapid healing. All court activities were suspended for this. This was both good and bad news, for it meant she did not have to face Elizabeth, or dress her until her normal activities resumed. But it was bad news also, for she called for William almost from sun up and would not relinquish him until into well into the night.

By day, she spent much of her time with Lady Stafford in the wardrobe, making herself as busy and useful as she could. But there was only so much of such she could stand. She longed to go riding, but that was not permitted her. She longed to take a stroll with William, or visit the town. She longed just to have him by her side where they could talk together. She longed for Harriet. And for Emma. And Lehzen. And Dash. And even Skerrett.

Even sometimes, for Ma-ma.

She felt so alone here, and without William by her side, she felt even lonelier. Lady Stafford was kind, but extremely busy. When in her company Victoria felt safe at least. But she could not stay there forever, and the other ladies of the court seemed as hostile as Lady Caroline had been. Whether due to Elizabeth’s attitude toward her, or Robert Dudley’s, or even William’s, she could not tell. But she was not exactly popular, and she was finding relationships, particularly reliable ones, difficult to come by.

It was like Kensington, to some degree, she thought. And if there was no Uncle Cumberland who was out to kill her for her inheritance, or Sir John to control it, the loneliness she felt was much the same. Without even her darling little Dash to help ease it.

Until the night blissfully returned. Then, like a fairy prince from a magic tale, Lord M would return to her. They would chat together, eat together, and make love together then sleep in each other’s arms again, until the morning when the spell was broken and he was pulled from her side again.

She felt impossibly torn in half by this. Though the misery of the day would melt instantly at the first sight of him, it would return as soon as he was gone. It was intolerable.

To say nothing of what he must be doing all day. Oh, he was not in Elizabeth’s bed, she did not worry for that. But they were together all the time that Victoria was so wretchedly alone. Sometimes it made her quite furious to think on how they must be chatting, how clever Elizabeth was, how slowly, over time she would work her way into his esteem, eventually supplanting herself. Victoria after all, had very little to offer him now. She was not able to spend a great deal of time with him as she had before. She was not even Queen. And he admired her for some of those things, at least.

The path to William’s affections was through the mind, she knew. Through a meeting of minds. She’d heard Emma say as much once or twice, how he fell for women who were clever and thoughtful as well as lively. Elizabeth, she reflected bitterly, was all of that. Would he not in time transfer his affections to Elizabeth, whom he would come to know far better as he spent more time with her and less with herself?

He would never mean to do it; like as not he’d fight against it. But nevertheless it would happen. She could see it all so clearly. The tears in his eyes as he came to her with apologies and regrets…’I don’t know how it happened,’ he’d say…but it would be inevitable. The tables would flip, she knew, and she would not be clever enough to hold him, not with Elizabeth Tudor as her competition. It was only a matter of time before she lost him completely. Unless…one of them could find a way out of this horrible place!

“Viscountess?”

She jumped and whirled around all in one motion, clasping her hand to her heart.

“Forgive me,” Robert Dudley said with a small smile. “I did not mean to startle you.”

“Sir Robert,” she said, taking deep breaths and steadying herself. “I did not see you there.”

“You were very much in your own thoughts, just now, I believe. And I have intruded myself.”

“No,” she said somewhat morosely, “No. You have not intruded.”

“But I see that I have,” he said, his brown eyes fixed on hers, missing nothing. “And so I have yet another apology to make to you, it would seem.”

“Pray do not trouble yourself. My thoughts were melancholic. They are of no consequence.”

“To yourself, perhaps. But they are of great consequence to me.” He smiled a little sadly.

“They matter not,” she said stupidly, twirling her fingers. Where was the Queen she had once been? Why could she not rally herself better for this exchange?

“Would you care then to take a turn with me? Perhaps I can be of some service in at least distracting you from that which makes you melancholy?”

She sighed. She should not. She knew she should not. But she was so lonely, and he was so…kind. There were so few people here who were kind to her after all.

“Very well,” she heard herself whisper.

He smiled in response, and placed her hand lightly on his upper arm as he came alongside her, and they began to stroll. His arm was solid as rock beneath the soft velvet brocade of his doublet, and the linen shirt beneath.

“There now. Not so bad, eh?”

She smiled a little in reply.

“I do owe you an apology. For my behavior the other day. It was most ungentlemanly. I was quite overcome in the moment. I should not have taken such liberties.”

She did not want to be reminded of his kiss. Did not want to think of his lips pressing hers. Of the groan that she had felt him make that rolled through her…did not want to remember the way he’d made her feel. There was only one man she wanted to make her feel that way, and every moment she’d spent kissing Robert Dudley had been a betrayal of that love.

“Apology accepted, Sir Robert. Pray do not mention it again.”

He was silent for some moments, and the only sounds to be heard were the birds overhead, calling to one another, and the soft crunch of their feet on the graveled path.

“As you wish,” he said finally.

She had pained him with that request, she realized. He had wanted to speak of it. Had wanted to remember.

She should never have allowed this walk together.

“The Queen keeps your cousin most jealously by her side,” he said instead. “In her private chambers. For the whole of the day. Every day.”

“Yes she does,” she said flatly.

“You must be very lonely, Viscountess. In a strange place such as this, among people who are not your own…and the only one who is familiar to you is taken away from you.”

“I do not require your pity, Sir Robert,” she said a little more frostily than she intended.

“Why is it,” he asked, looking askance at her, “that you remind me so much of Bess sometimes?”

“I couldn’t say. Perhaps you have a talent for exasperating every woman you are acquainted with, Sir Robert,” she said testily.

He stopped walking, causing her to come to an abrupt halt, then threw his head back and laughed more heartily than she would have thought possible. He was quite even more disconcertingly handsome when laughing, she noticed irritably.

“Dear God, Viscountess! You may be more right than even you know!” He said, finally getting control of himself. “One thing is sure. I have the most exquisite taste in women that a man ever did. Perhaps that is partly to blame as well.”

“I could not say. And now if you will excuse me—”

“No. Please. Don’t go. Don’t run away from me again. Indeed I think that every time I see you, you end up running away.”

“Perhaps if you were more gentlemanly I would not feel the need to.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t so conflicted you wouldn’t feel the need to.”

“Good day, Sir Robert.” She stopped just short of telling him, ‘you may leave us.’

“Admit it, Viscountess. You like me. You don’t like that you like me, but you do like me.”

“I shall admit no such thing!”

“And where is he now, this man who commands so much of your loyalty? Does he tell you of a night, about his days with Bess, alone, in her bedchamber? Hour upon hour, what do they do in there? The whole palace is wondering. Whispering of it. The Queen is besotted, so they say. Some say she has taken him for her lover.”

“He would never do such a thing and you are vile to suggest it!” Victoria ripped her hand away from him, fury infusing every inch of her.

“What man made of flesh and bone would not take advantage? Bess is a beautiful woman, after all.”

“She is also the Queen!”

“Aye. So she is. And a Queen may command of a courtier anything she wishes.”

“And has she commanded such of you, Sir Robert?” Victoria’s eyes narrowed.

He arched an eyebrow at her, nonplussed. “So what if she has?”

“You admit it?”

“I admit nothing.”

“Do you know what I think? I think you are contemptible.” Her eyes narrowed again and she spoke with a violence that surprised even her.

“And I think you are a woman in love, Viscountess. Very much in love. With a man you cannot have, and cannot bear to think of in the arms of another woman. You fear it; you hate it. And you vent your spleen on me. And do you know what I have to say about that?”

“I really don’t care what else you have to say about anything!”

They were nose to nose now, Victoria was suddenly surprised to note. Her hands twitched with the most extraordinary urge to slap him. To lash out. To scratch and claw at his handsome face. She had never felt the like in all her life.

“I say, vent your spleen. Rage and rail at me all you like. I am more than willing. Punish me. For my words are harsh as they are true, and you can’t bear them, because they speak to your deepest fears. And when you have exhausted yourself and your anger is spent, you will find that I will be here, waiting. My arms are as warm as his. My body as soothing as his—if not more, for it is younger than his. My lips are hot and ready for yours. I will be waiting, Viscountess, to comfort you when you grieve him. And when the grief has passed, I believe someday you will be amazed to find that you love me, too.”

“I do not love you! I will never love you!” Victoria felt like a shouting child. And she resented him all the more for making her feel that way. “You are vile! You are reprehensible! You are worse than detestable! How could you possibly compare to him? How could you even think to do so! You are not worth the ground he walks on,” there were tears in her eyes, and in her voice now as she shouted at him through clenched teeth. “You are not fit to wipe the mud from his boots! Leave me be! I do not want you now or ever!” She turned on her heel and stormed off, even more furious because she was running away from Sir Robert Dudley.

Again.

* * *

“Oh look! We’ve won!” The Queen clapped her hands together, and fixed Lord Melbourne with the eyes of a tigress.  "It appears that you have lost your bet, Our Lamb.  And owe us the price of our victory."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes as a writer, you struggle with a story. At other times, it just seems to flow like water from a tap. And after a great deal of the former, this chapter happened in one continuous flow. It feels weird posting so soon after its conception, because normally I do struggle a great deal, and question, and revise and revise some more, and continue to question. But this just feels right, just as it is. It is actually the first part of what became a very long chapter. I hope it is enjoyable. The rest is coming soon. As always, I welcome and love your comments!


	25. Chapter 25--Dreams Unwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William makes good on his bet, but what will the fallout be?
> 
>  
> 
> Mild heat advisory. NSFW probably, at least in some places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions  
> I keep my visions to myself  
> It's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams  
> And have you any dreams you'd like to sell?  
> Dreams of loneliness
> 
> Like a heartbeat drives you mad  
> In the stillness of remembering what you had  
> And what you lost…”  
> (”Dreams” Fleetwood Mac, 1977)
> 
> “Dreams unwind,  
> Love’s a state of mind…”  
> (”Rhiannon,” Fleetwood Mac, 1975)

Chapter 25—Dreams Unwind

 

The Queen bit her lip, her eyes smoldering at him with triumph and…something else that Lord Melbourne did not want to see. She grinned at him invitingly.

Damnation, what a seductive look! For a moment, he was blindsided with pure animal lust. Here they were, in her bedchamber no less, the royal bed looming large behind her. Here was a second queen, ostensibly virgin, just begging him to deflower her.

Him. William Lamb. A man in his advancing years, who’s accomplishments amounted to very little of anything. A Prime Minister in a now-future parliament, who had done his best to just stay this side of power, and nothing more. Yet he was an object of desire, to Elizabeth Tudor—! A figure swathed in legend, almost mythology, and so revered in modern times as enlightened and regal and just and…wise. A figure he’d grown up reading about in school as a lad still wet behind the ears.

Good Queen Bess. The Virgin Queen. Practically panting with breathlessness waiting for his kiss? His?!

What absurd irony! What nonsense!

It was so absurd indeed that he had to check himself from laughing out loud--which would have been highly inappropriate at the moment, and no doubt fatal.

He raised his eyebrows instead, in a practiced gesture that was more socially acceptable whenever he found himself amused at something very grave.

If Caro could have seen this…he thought wryly, her cuckolded old husband, thus panted over by Queens. She, who had seen him as too boring to be of interest when standing next to Byron, might have had to revise her opinion slightly.

Yes, he thought as he approached her. It was very flattering. But Elizabeth, for all her contrived, fascinating beauty, was not the right woman. Not the woman he wanted.

Nevertheless, a wager was a wager. He would have to carry through. Thank God she did not have either the knowledge or nerve to ask him for anything more.

He was standing over her now. But she remained seated.

“Our foot still pains us,” she said in a soft, husky tone. “Therefore we bid you kneel before us, Our most handsome Lamb, and give us our highly anticipated prize.”

Good God, the way she was looking at him!

She was lucky, he thought, that he was himself and not another man. For any other man in his position would have certainly taken advantage. Clearly, she was a woman with her father’s appetites, albeit the feminine equivalent. Her sheer love of men, her blatant hunger for more carnal satisfaction from them was evident in her eyes, in every line of her body. She reeked of lust. Of need, of hunger for sensual, human touch. When set alongside the power she wielded, and the vulnerability she showed him it was…heady. Bewitching. No. No other man could be here right now and not take advantage. But then, no other man carried such a love in his heart for an entirely different woman.

Yes, he would give her her kiss. And nothing else.

He approached her slowly, so as not to startle either of them, noticing as he did so how her breath hitched, became shallow, as her golden eyes drank him in. He placed his hands slowly on either arm of her chair for leverage, and her cool, creamy hands covered them, stroking and exploring the texture of his fingers, his grip.

She did not close her eyes. She was memorizing him, he realized. Despite himself, he was touched. He had no feelings for her beyond admiration and respect. And a certain friendship now, perhaps. But no passion. This woman, whom men and women alike would admire and revere and remember for centuries to come, was so utterly alone. Longing for the simple pleasures of life and love…for a man to comfort and protect her, to make love to her. But as badly as she wanted it, her life had been such that she could never truly trust a man that far. Never allow him to have such power over her.  His heart was moved, not with desire, but with…simple, human compassion. And it was compassion that kissed the Queen.

He bent his head to hers, touched her lips with his own.

Gently, ever so gently he moved against her.  He suffused his kiss with tenderness, because her life was devoid of that most of all. In a world where she was on a constant defensive against men taking advantage--men who saw her only as a conduit for their own power--no man ever gave her that. And Elizabeth wanted to taste tenderness as much as she wanted passion. He knew she did. She wanted to pretend, for just one moment, that she was an ordinary woman, who did not have to live in constant fear for her life and her throne, being kissed by an ordinary man, not because of a bet, but because he loved her.  And so he gave her this moment, not because he wanted it. Not because she deserved it. But because she was a lonely woman, doomed to remain so, who, if history was to be believed, would never know a lover’s embrace. Never have a husband to warm her bed and only stolen, illicit moments like these to give her the barest glimpse of what it was like to be loved by a man.  Such a terrible fate for a woman of her nature.  Gently, tenderly, with compassion he kissed her, because he valued her feelings and herself for who she was.  Not because he desired her and not for what she could give him.

But at the same time, he held back everything else. His kiss was in many ways, clinical. There was no heat in it. No arousal. No feeling whatever. Such things were not for her…not possible between them. This was merely…kindness. A delicate, almost chaste brushing of lips against lips, and that was all.

Her hands gripped his. Her lips fluttered against his like helpless butterflies. Her body was rigid with shock, fear, awkwardness. But she sighed against his mouth, and a little moan escaped her. He kissed her patiently, until she relaxed against him, until her hands slid up his arms and curled themselves in his hair, and her lips slid against his languidly. Then and only then, could she really taste what he was giving her. And then and only then, with his kiss complete, did he end it.

He pulled away, but not too far too fast. Not wishing to leave her cold and ashamed, he kept his proximity until her eyes focused on his again. They shared a small smile, and then he backed away.

Elizabeth blinked hard. Once. Twice. Then turned her face from him.

“Your Majesty? Have I…offended you?”

“Offended?” She said in a tremulous voice, turning back to him ever so slightly. “No, Lamb. You have not offended in the slightest. We are…overcome. We did not…expect…” she sighed.

William hesitated. Had he overdone it? A sense of dread prickled along his spine. What if he had offended? What if his kiss was taken entirely out of context? What if she thought he was disingenuous, or worse…forward? Enamored?

Oh God, how was he going to explain all of this to Victoria?

Elizabeth turned around again, ever so slightly, and smiled shyly. She was looking at him differently. The flirtatiousness was gone, and instead she seemed…diminished somehow. Had he kissed the woman behind the Queen, after all?

“We confess, we have had many kisses,” she said, her cheeks pink, “But no one has ever kissed us like that before. We did not know it could be…so glorious.” She whispered the last words.

Oh God. He had overdone it. He tried to smile in response, but he felt sick inside. No surely she did not think…oh bloody hell, she did think!

She pressed her lips together, almost unconsciously, clearly savoring what he had only intended to be a very chaste sort of kiss. “The feeling of your lips on ours, Our Lamb, we shall never forget for the rest of our life. Nor shall we ever again stop craving more.”

“Your Majesty, I…do not wish to give the wrong impression. It was a wager, Your Majesty. I did not intend…”

“Of course,” she said with a smile, her face reddening more.

_Bollocks now he’d made it worse!_

“We know it was all in jest!” She said with forced gaiety. “We jest as well. But…we do find ourself a bit…fatigued. Perhaps we should turn in.”

He stood immediately and bowed. “In that case, I shall bid good eve to you, Your Majesty.”

“Good Eve, Our darling Lamb,” said the Queen with a dreamy smile.

William barely made it out of her presence before his innards rebelled. On his way back to his rooms, he cursed profusely.

 

* * *

 

Victoria made her way back to her apartments, struggling to hold on to her tears. She was furious. Furious with herself…furious with Sir Robert. And even in some measure, furious with William too.

To say nothing of the Queen.

She paced up and down their common rooms, no longer caring if she never left their comfortable privacy again. There might have been something in William’s advice, after all, she decided, wiping her tears with her damp handkerchief. But how was she to manage living this way? If she stirred forth, she knew Sir Robert would find her. If she stayed in, she knew she’d go mad.

She wondered at this point if the preservation of her sanity were even still possible.

The worst part of all was that she could not expunge Sir Robert Dudley’s face from her mind. Nor could she forget the warm, passionate press of his full lips against hers, the feeling of his hard, muscled arms beneath her hands, his whispered endearments, and his warm brown eyes.

She cried out her frustration and clenched her fists. She did not care for Sir Robert Dudley! She did not!

So why had she been so stirred today when he had talked about the warmth of his body, waiting for her? Why had she, in one tiny moment of weakness, considered those full, manly lips again, as they smiled invitingly…

Hateful! Hateful man!

She did hate him!

Dear God…she loved her Lord M! She loved him with all her heart…longed for him with every heartbeat he was away from her! How could she entertain such treasonous ideas about someone else?

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and huddled close to the fire. She was freezing. But it was not the cool air of their chambers that made her teeth rattle and her body shiver.

Oh! Where was Lord M?

* * *

Victoria awoke to a brisk knocking on the door. She gazed sleepily around her and realized she must have dozed off in the chair. The fire was low and the sun had gone down. All the better. He’d be along soon now, surely.

She answered the door and received the servant, allowing her to set food out for them and stoke the fire, add some additional timbers. She also bade her refresh the fire in her own bedchamber, and in Lord M’s, just for propriety’s sake, and empty the chamber pots, bring fresh linens and fill the ewers. When these tasks had been completed and the maid had gone, Victoria removed herself to her bedroom to begin dressing for bed. When she had completed this she returned to the supper tray, fished off an apple and a bit of cheese, drank one goblet of ale. She had no appetite. She sat down to wait some more.

An hour or so later, she woke again. Still alone in the room. Where was Lord M? The hour now was late, surely? He should have been here by now! Indeed he had never been this late, she was sure of it.

A sick, cold feeling snaked its way through her gut. Where was he? What was he doing…with Elizabeth, still in her chamber?

A sudden rush of red hot fury filled her, until even her vision was tainted red. There could be only one explanation.

Alternating between feeling sick to her stomach, and feeling dangerously, blindly angry, she paced in the semi-darkness, debating with herself. Elizabeth was a Queen, but so was she after all! Albeit not in this time, it didn’t alter the fact. She had stayed up waiting long enough. She had her pride too.

And she had had quite enough.  Of all of this. 

With sudden decision, she abandoned her pacing and banked the fire. Then she removed herself to her room.

Bolting her door behind her.

* * *

_Finally._

He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. He was home.

He laughed ironically. Home indeed. To his borrowed apartments in Whitehall palace, which he shared with Victoria. Could his life possibly become any more absurd?

Oh well. It was of little matter. So long as he came home to her. That was all he could possibly want in life fulfilled—in any century.

_Victoria._

Her welcoming arms. Her sweet lips. God how he looked forward to this every day! God how he needed her touch to sooth him, to help banish the trials of the day. With her waiting for him every night, he could face the worst this wearisome world could find to throw at him. And he would do the same for her. Caress away her worries and fears, kiss her into a fever and then love her right through until dawn.

He allowed himself a moment's delicious anticipation of this latter part.  It didn't matter how tired he was, or how much he made love to her.  How or how often.  He wanted her all the more.  Constantly.  Indeed he burned for her every moment he was not inside of her luscious little body.  Never had he ever had a lover like her before.  A woman he craved night and day.  His appetite for her was truly bottomless.  Boundless.  Unquenchable.

Tonight.  Tonight he wanted to taste her.  He wanted to feast and feast upon her succulent little body.  He smiled.  God how she howled when he did that!  And how he loved the taste of her sweet, wet desire, loved to fill his mouth with her.  Yes.  He would take her that way first.  Then he would raise her little hips, prop her ankles on his shoulders and drive in deep and slow.  He would brand her his.  Claim her in the most elemental way.  And if they were both still cognizant after that he would roll her over and take her from behind, hard and fast.

And then they would lie together in the darkness, heavy and satiated.  Talking until they either fell asleep entwined together, or roused themselves to make love again.

He turned the door handle and stopped short.

He was greeted with a mostly dark room.

He swallowed hard, his guts twisting in on themselves. Never before had he come home to such. Usually the room was bathed in candlelight and warmth from the fire. And the first thing he would see would be his beauteous little Queen, face suffused in welcome as she ran to meet him.

She was nowhere to be found.

He took a few cautious steps in.

“Cousin?” he whispered. “Cousin Drina?”

His ears were wide open. Had someone taken her? Did someone now lie in wait for him?

There was not a sound, outside the lonely, forlorn popping of the banked fire.

Satisfied that he was at least alone without intruders, he closed the door firmly behind him and bolted the outside world out. Perhaps she had just gone to sleep while waiting for him. He smiled at the thought of her all bundled up under the down coverlet, deliciously warm, deliciously naked, her mouth sleep swollen, her hair tousled. How he would sneak in between the covers and slide his naked body up against hers, wrap her in his arms and wake her with his lips...

The door would not open.

Melbourne blinked at the latch stupidly for several minutes, as if expecting it to explain its bizarre behavior. Perhaps it was stuck?

He tried again. And again.

His heart sank into his shoes and he swallowed hard.  He felt cold all over.

She had bolted it from the inside. There was no other explanation.

She had locked him out.

He felt sick again. He reached out a hand to the mantle, propping himself up against the weariness, as his eyes took in the supper tray, now long since cold and mostly untouched.

Damn damn and three times damned.

“Victoria?” he said, swallowing the bile in his throat. “It’s me. William. Please, will you open the door?”

No response. Perhaps she didn’t hear him. She was asleep. Surely. And had locked the door by accident.

“Victoria?”

A wall of silence was his only reply.

“Victoria!” He knocked on the wood.

Banged on it. Pounded.

“VICTORIA?!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are appreciated! There will be more soon.


	26. Chapter 26--When the Stars Go Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William bangs on the door. Will Victoria open it? 
> 
> HEAT advisory. NSFW. In fact it would be best to read this when quite alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Where do you go when you're lonely?  
> Where do you go when you're blue?  
> Where do you go when you’re lonely  
> I'll follow you--  
> When the stars go blue…”
> 
> (The Corrs, feat. Bono, 2002).

Chapter 26—When the Stars Go Blue

Victoria let the tears run unchecked down her cheeks. He was frantic now. Panicked. She’d never heard her darling Lord M sound so anguished. So scared.

It slashed through her heart. She stuffed the edge of the coverlet into her mouth to stop herself from sobbing aloud, every part of her straining to open the door.

And yet she did not move.

She could not. She had been through too much today. Too much to just open the door. So she clung to her pain, wrapped it around herself like a mantle and used it to deafen her ears to his pleas. Somehow she just felt like she needed to take a stand. And this was the only stand she could conceive of to make.

“VICTORIA!! Please! Let me in. Please let me in! VICTORIA!!”

She was so angry. She was so hurt.

Her pride bade her stay in the bed.

Her love for him begged her to open the door.

She sat staring at the trembling door, as the war raged on within herself, until she felt herself rise, her arms and legs moving as of their own accord. She stood before the door and hesitated, her shaking fingers caressing the rough wood of the door.

“VICTORIA?!”

Her eyes closed in pain at his frantic tone.

But if she opened the door, what then? Would he always treat her this way? Was she to spend her life coming second to Elizabeth?

Her heart whispered that it wasn’t his fault. That he had had no choice. That she knew this to be true. She knew they were both pawns on a board they did not control. So why was she blaming him?

But…the pain she had been through tonight. The impatience. The rage. The uncertainty…

“Victoria?” His voice was quieter now. Tremulous, questioning. His heart in his voice. He was giving up.

Maybe she was the world’s biggest fool. Maybe she was weak. But she couldn’t take it anymore.

Again moving almost of their own volition, her hands opened the latch.

* * *

It was no good. She wasn’t going to open it. His shoulders sagged, his head dropped with a thump against the wood as his hand slid down the door.

God…she must really think he’d bedded Elizabeth. And he supposed that made sense from her point of view. No. She was understandably angry. But how on earth was he to fix this, when as soon as morning came he’d be ordered back to Elizabeth’s room?

Anger of his own burned in the pit of his stomach—a dangerous, noxious type of anger that would do nothing for him but get them both killed. Or worse, get Victoria killed or married off. No, he told himself firmly. It did no good to be angry with Elizabeth. No good at all. And yet—truth be told he was seething.

God save him from meddlesome queens!

Apart from his own darling, he’d had his fill of pandering to royal whims. Fed up to the back teeth with it all. Good God, he was already so weary of it all before Victoria ever ascended the throne. Only her, with her winsome beauty and endless, artless charms could give him the strength to endure it all. Bereft of her…? What reason did he possibly have to continue? With any of it?

The door opened.

He stood erect again, his heart in his throat.

Victoria stood before him! She had opened it after all! It was as if the sun had broken through the clouds, shining on him, wrapping him in warmth and beauty.

Greedily he drank in the sight of her, but his heart clenched painfully to see her eyes red rimmed from crying. Her face pale and drawn in the moonlight. Oh God! God in heaven, had he done this to her? Was this transformation all for him? He was not worth it!

The hurt in her eyes burned into his, stole his breath. He sank to his knees before her, utterly without words. The fatigue, the strain of the day, and…and all of this…had struck him dumb. He bowed his head in sorrow and in deference.

“My Queen,” he choked out. “Forgive me!”

On his knees, his head was level with her heart. When her hands landed in his hair and drew him closer, he buried his face gratefully in the folds of her nightgown, nuzzling against her soft body, and wrapping his arms around her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry!”

“I waited for you for hours,” she said in a cracked voice. “But when you did not come…”

He squeezed himself more tightly against her. “I know. I know what you must have thought. Oh my darling…”

“You did not…tell me you did not,” she whispered.

“I did not bed her. I swear I did not.” He raised his eyes to hers. “I have no desire for her. Only for you.”

“But she could command it…”

“I would still refuse.” He said adamantly. “She has no conceivable right to demand such a thing.”

“She is Queen. Here in this time that is right enough. You know it is true.”

“But I can still refuse. And I will. No matter what. I shall never let her command me to her bed.”

“She could order you to your death for refusing her!”

“Than I will go to my death. I cannot betray my love.” He caressed her body, sliding his hands up her sides, gathering the folds of her nightgown into his fists, kissing her softly through the light fabric. “I will not betray it. My heart, my allegiance, my _life_ is yours, Victoria. I will do anything—anything—to prove to you it is so.”

“Oh my love!”

He felt her knees buckle and he caught her, standing himself and supporting her as she fell against him.

“If it comes to such a choice, I would wish you to bed her. Please do not go heroically to your death to prove you love me. For I cannot bear the thought of--”

He cut her off with his kisses. He took her face in his hands and kissed her and kissed her, grinding his mouth against hers, his hands in her hair to steady her. His heart was fit to burst. He could not tear his lips away from her! How he had hungered for her all day, how he had despaired when she would not open the door! He was a starving man, desperate. Her lips, her skin, her body in his arms, her beautiful self—was everything he needed. She was his survival. His reason for being. If she commanded him to live, he would live. If she commanded him to die, he would die. Anything…everything…for her.

She gasped and moaned, her body lithe and yielding as he devoured her. He wanted to kiss every inch of her all at once. Feast upon her. Once he'd started, he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t kiss her enough, touch her enough. His lips were everywhere, all over her face, tasting and caressing, all over her gorgeous neck, her adorable little ears…her precious little nose…oh God her glorious rosebud mouth! His! All his!

He kissed her and kissed her--reassuring himself that she was here, and real and solid. Celebrating that she loved him and still believed in him, wiping the memory of the last woman he’d kissed from his lips forever as he did so.

 _Never again. Never._  He vowed it to himself, as much as to her.  

This was the woman he wanted to kiss. This was the woman who’s lips he adored...needed like he needed the very air to breathe. This was the woman who’s kiss meant everything—love, desire, acceptance, belonging.

Home.

“My darling,” he whispered against her face before seizing her lips again. “Oh my darling…”

* * *

Victoria couldn’t help herself. She was lost in his kisses. Lost in his arms. His body. His scent. His taste.

Oh, her lover was home! Home again, at last!

Her heart drank him in greedily. He was still hers! Oh her darling, darling Lord M! She could not press herself close enough to him, could not get enough of his voracious kisses, of the feel of his face, his ears, his hair beneath her fingers! Oh God in his heaven! Why had she not opened the door sooner?

He hoisted her into his arms as if she were as insubstantial as a twig, carrying her into her room and dropping her on the bed, saying not another word. He slid his hands up her body in one motion and tugged the nightgown off over her head, tossing it heedlessly onto the floor. Frantically they both scrambled to get his clothes off until finally he was gloriously naked. He covered her and drove himself deep inside of her in one thrust.

They were too desperate for gentleness. There was a violence in them both, a drive that she could not put words to but felt nevertheless. An imperative that must be answered. She had to have him. Now! She needed to feel him…in her, over her, all around her--his lips, his tongue, his hot skin brushing against hers, his hands, his…

Oh God yes! Like this!

She rubbed herself against him. Wild. Desperate. Wrapping her body around him, her hands on his hips, pulling him closer, deeper.

“Harder,” she heard herself whisper. “Faster. That’s it. Oh God yes just like that!”

“Victoria!” he breathed into her neck as he slammed into her, making delicious animal sounds that turned her blood to fire in her veins.

They lost all sense of propriety. Abandoned all sense of shame. Utterly given over to each other, they became something else entirely. Something beyond words and names. Something basic. Raw. Ancient and elemental and eternal.

She mewed against him, sounds she didn’t even know she could make coming from her as he drove himself hard inside of her. Oh, here was safety. Security at last. Sanity. Freedom.

No man could make her feel this way but him! No man would ever touch her this way. See her this way. With him, there was no shame. She was free to lust, free to relish everything he did to her. It was so much more than bodies meeting. She felt as if their very souls were entwined…wrapped up around each other...melting into one…indistinguishable one from the other. He was her. She was him. And no one, no matter how they tried, could ever separate them again. They could be forced apart, but never divided. She would never again exist merely as herself, never with any other man know this completion. This perfect joy. And if he were taken from her, she would mourn his loss for the rest of time.

“Mine,” he growled against her, his beautiful eyes, dark with passion, devouring her as he claimed her. “You are mine!”

“Yours,” she acknowledged, gazing into his soul, breathless, her palm against his cheek. “Oh yes yours yours yours!”

“My beauty…my darling…my angel…”

“Need…”she whimpered, “I need--you!  I need--this--so--much!”

“I am here! Feel me--I am here. And I am yours!”

Oh yes he was! He was here! He was hers! He was finally finally here!

“So empty…so empty without you.”

“And I am broken without you.” He said, stroking her hair. “Never doubt it. Cold. So cold and so alone…”

She kissed him open-mouthed, sucking his tongue into her mouth, making him moan as she sucked him, caressed him with her own, needing to feel him inside of her everywhere.

A shudder ran through him.

Oh yes!

She raked her hands down his back and pulled him closer, releasing his tongue and throwing her head back, crying out as his mouth trailed hungrily down her neck.

She wanted to feel him come apart for her. Wanted him wild, out of control, so far gone that he could think of nothing but his own release. She wound her hands in his damp curls, things flying out of her mouth she could not believe she was saying.

“Oh my darling Lord M! I love your perfect cock…inside-of-me! I need it! I crave it! I adore it! Oh never stop…oh yes just like that…”

That did it. She felt the tremor run through him and he groaned against her, his movements becoming erratic, frantic. He was close. So close!

“Say you love only me! Say it!” She heard herself cry out.

He groaned into her neck, deep and guttural. “I do! Only you! Forever!!”

She heard herself utter a dirty word. Dirty, filthy and perfect. Told him to do it to her. Endlessly. Without ever stopping, and was rewarded with another groan that rumbled through her whole body.

“Come to me--Ma'am--my adorable--little--Queen,” he demanded, “My vixen--my darling--wanton--girl--Come now! Come and come and come for me!”

She screamed out her climax, and he joined her. And in the frenzy and the madness of final joining, they both toppled over the edge together into delicious, perfect completion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah but William...there is one teeny weeny thing you forgot to mention on the way by...
> 
> As always, your comments are welcome and appreciated!


	27. Chapter 27--Only Love Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord M is honest with Victoria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “And if you take your love away from me,  
> I'm only going to want it back.  
> I'll probably pretend I didn't see,  
> But knowing me, I'll want you back again,  
> And again,  
> 'Til the word has lost it's meaning,  
> And love  
> Is all that stays.  
> Only love remains.
> 
> If you should ever feel  
> That something's wrong,  
> I'm going to want to put it right,  
> To bring a happy ending to our song,  
> I'll carry on believing in a love.  
> If your love  
> Was to trickle through my fingers,  
> What would  
> It leave me with?  
> Only love remains…. 
> 
> Only love,  
> Old enough, and strong enough  
> To stretch across the world.  
> Taking the sand inside an oyster,  
> Changing it into a pearl.  
> Making another magic transformation,  
> Find the right boy  
> For the right girl.
> 
> When all our friends have gone,  
> And we're alone,  
> There's nothing left to shout about,  
> Together we'll explore  
> The great unknown.  
> I'd say we won't be going out tonight,  
> Let tonight  
> Be the one that we remember,  
> When love  
> Is all that stays,  
> Only love remains... 
> 
> Only love remains...”  
> (Paul McCartney, 1986).

Chapter 27—Only Love Remains

 

William couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. His whole existence was a throbbing, pulsing pleasure between his legs.

And the beautiful, perfect woman in his arms.

“Ohhh…bloody… _hell_ …” he slurred, half laughing just with the shock of the intensity of it. When it subsided he gathered her soft female body happily to himself and rolled them both over, crashing down on the bed like a felled timber.

Her delicate little face hovered over him, considerably happier than they’d started off.

“That’s better…” he slurred, smiling up at her drunkenly as he brushed her hair from her face. “That’s how I like to see my woman…”

She lay her cheek against his hand, snuggling into it.

“And this is the way I like to see my man,” she said with a smile.

“God I love the sound of that. I like being your man. I wish to God we could make it official.”

“So do I. I love being your woman.”

“I’m sorry about tonight.”

“I know. It wasn’t your fault.”

He regarded her solemnly for a moment, brushing through the silk of her hair with his hand. Why did it feel like it had been so long since they had made love? Had it really only been this morning? _This_ morning? And yet to William it felt like it had been an age. He stroked her face softly with his thumb, reacquainting himself with her features. She was so lovely. So very delicate and lovely. She didn’t need any paint, or ornate clothing to shock a man’s senses into feeling attracted. Any man with eyes and sense and taste would choose her. Every.  Time.  He himself had been besotted since the moment he first saw her.

“My poor darling. Are you so very lonely? All the time I spend away?”

“Yes,” she turned to kiss his hand in an effort to hide the pain in her eyes from him. But he saw it anyway.

“God I’m sorry.”

“You have no choice. I know that.”

“But it doesn’t make the reality any easier to bear, does it?”

“No. It doesn’t.”

“Lady Stafford does not provide adequate companionship for you.”

“She is pleasant, but so busy. I spend as much time as I can in the wardrobe but…”

“You can only tolerate so much of it.”

“Precisely.”

“I can understand that.”

“No one else is you in any case. It is you that I miss. The walks we used to take together. The rides. Just having you about to talk to. I miss it all.” She lay her cheek against his chest, nuzzling softly.

Her every gesture of love undid him. How had he ever deserved this angel?

“So do I. Elizabeth is…very tiring.”

He should not have mentioned her name. Victoria sat up and moved away from him. He followed her. Damn and blast, he thought. And what he still had to tell her was not going to make things any better.

“You have…no call to worry. You know that?” He sat near her, but kept himself from touching her.

“When we are together, I do not. But when you are with her all day…while I miss you so dreadfully…I cannot help but give in to doubt.”

He nodded. “Would you like me to tell you about what we have been doing?”

“No. Yes. No.” She sighed.

He huffed a laugh. “Well. Let me know when you’ve decided.”

“The palace is full of gossip about you. They say you have been in her bedchamber all this time. They say she is no longer a virgin. That she must have taken you as a lover.”

He regarded his folded hands. Damnation, what she’d endured in his absence! “I hope you know that’s not true.”

“Now I do. But tomorrow I will question it again.”

“Who is…telling you all of this?” He stroked a thumb across his brow. As if he didn’t know. But he would have it from her, all the same.

She shrugged. “Does it matter? It’s all over the palace.”

“Not Lady Stafford.”

“No. Not Lady Stafford.”

He nodded. Just as he thought. So. While he was away from her side, Robert Dudley was still sniffing around her heels, pouring doubt and suspicion into her heart. It was just as he’d feared it would be. But why wouldn’t she tell him that? He looked askance at her. Was Dudley making inroads into her affections? The idea twisted his gut painfully.

“Have…you been spending time with Sir Robert Dudley?”

She huffed a breath of frustration, and his heart sank. Yes, she had.

“Not willingly.”

“Ah. So he found you again, did he?”

“In the gardens. He apologized for kissing me. But then he told me about you and the Queen and…he said that she was in love with you. That she would not ever let you go. Especially not for me. Not ever. I got so angry.”

He listened with growing alarm as she related the events of the afternoon and her exchange with Robert Dudley. In truth, he very much feared Dudley’s prediction himself. After all, who knew her better than he did? What if it was true? What if she became so enamored of him that she prevented their marrying, even if he did manage to squeeze out some way of supporting Victoria? He needed a contingency plan. He simply could not allow the forces around them to permanently pull them apart. He ran a hand through his hair in agitation. Surely there must be a way? There must! But he did not voice any of this to Victoria. Instead he said, “Then I come in late. God I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I got angry.”

He was silent a moment. Should he tell her what had transpired between himself and the Queen?  Hell, she had locked him out tonight as it was. How on God’s earth was he to explain this? It was tempting not to try. But he knew better. The story would circulate. He knew that. Elizabeth would have no reason not to tell everyone she pleased. How much worse would it be for him and Victoria, if she found out from the likes of Dudley? No, he did not dare take that chance. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task.

“Victoria, there is something I need to tell you.”

“What?”

His heart melted. Nearly broke at the sight if her wide, inquisitive eyes in the moonlight as she turned to him. God, she was lovely. How her eyes shined at him with perfect trust—perfect love! Would they shine still, once he finished speaking? Even now, there was a chance. He could offer up something else instead.

No. She deserved the truth from him.

“I did not bed the Queen. But I did…kiss her.”

She started away from him as if stung. He felt his heart crumble into dust at her expression. God if he had bedded the Queen, he could not imagine the hurt that he would deal his love if one kiss provoked this much pain. She was trembling so much he could see her in the semidarkness.

“You…kissed…her?” Her voice was barely audible.

“Not willingly. But yes.”

He related the whole event from start to finish. The details of the wager. And how he’d kissed her out of pity. And then her unexpected reaction. Her promises and his fears. When he finished, she climbed from the bed without a word, wrapped in the coverlet.

“Victoria…”

“You may leave us,” she whispered.

The impact of her words fell upon his chest like the kick of a stallion.

“Victoria, please! Please don’t send me from your side. Not now. Not like this.” His own voice had deserted him. He could not speak above a whisper. “I can explain everything…”

“I don’t want you here anymore!” She screamed. “Please. Leave me be. It is what you will do in the morning anyway. I am sure you wish to be rested for Her Majesty’s next audience. No telling what she will require of you next time.”

The anguish in her voice was palpable. He sank to the bed, senses numb with fear and loss, and dropped his head into his hands. “It is not what you think,” he muttered through his own despair.

“Get out! Get out this instant!” She turned on her heel, roaring at him. “I do not want to hear your piteous excuses! I do not want to hear another word about how I don’t understand! How dare you speak to me as if I am a simpleton who does not comprehend what a kiss means! Do not presume to explain such to me again! Remove yourself from my room this very moment! I will not share you with anyone! I will not be second place! I will have you entirely, or not at all, do you understand me, _My Lord_ Melbourne? If you want Elizabeth, go to her! Take her! And be damned to you both!”

“I don’t want Elizabeth!” He shouted back. Her harsh words had penetrated the fog of shock around his brain. Damned if he’d walk away now, letting her think this of him! He loved her too much for that. He would fight anyone for the love they had. Even her.

“Do not insult my intelligence with your lies!”

“I would not dream of insulting you at _all_ , but I’ll be damned if I’ll leave here and let you believe a lie! Even if it is your own!”

“My lie? MY lie! How dare you!"  Tears were streaming down her cheeks.  "You do insult me! How dare you come here and make love to me after kissing her, and call me a liar for not believing in your own!” She crossed the room to him, pounding on him with her fists, crying, "How dare you!  How dare you!"  Over and over again.  But her little fists didn’t hurt him nearly as much as her words.

“Did I react so when you kissed Robert Dudley? Did I?”

“That wasn’t my fault and you know it!”

“Yes I do know it! Just as this was not _my_ fault, and yet you cannot see that it is the same!”

“I told you the moment you arrived! I didn’t allow you to make love to me first!”  She was sobbing.

“You had locked me out or I would have!"

“I should never have opened the bloody door!”

“Bloody hell woman, do you not know how I feel about you by now?” Desperate, hardly knowing what he was doing or why, he grabbed her and kissed her hard.

He should never have done it. She struggled against him like a stranger would have, and when she struggled free, she slapped him.

“Stop it,” she staggered away from him. “Please...just go. Why are you doing this? Why do you persist in making this even harder than it already is? Do you not know how you break my heart? How much I lo—” she broke off and sank to the floor, face in her hands. “I have lost you,” she wailed. “I have lost you I have lost you…oh, how can I manage? How can I bear such pain as this?”

“Victoria,” he sank to his knees before her, dimly recognizing the tears streaming from his own eyes. “You have _not_ lost me! You _cannot_ lose me…only push me away. Is that what you truly wish? To push me away?”

“Into Elizabeth’s waiting arms no doubt!”

“I do not know or care if her arms are waiting, Victoria! I _do not want_ her! If you push me away, I will stay away out of love for you. But you will not find me in Elizabeth’s arms, or in anyone else’s. I meant what I said before. I would die before I let her order me to her bed. If that’s what it takes for you to know I am telling you the truth when I say I love _you_ and no one else, than that is what I will do.”

“I do not wish you to die!  Not ever!” She wailed miserably. “But I cannot stop feeling as if….  Oh!  You have already kissed her! It is only a matter of time now!” She wrapped her arms tightly around her middle, rocking forward in a gesture of pain that ripped his heart to shreds. “She is so very beautiful! So very elegant! She is everything you admire in women! Clever and vivacious and strong…and you spend hour after hour in her company! She will wear you down slowly, until one night you will come to me and tell me you don’t know how it happened but you found yourself in bed with her and you’re very much sorry but you don’t love me anymore! I do not wish to wait around for that to happen! If you are going to do it, than just go now! Do it and be done!”

“Listen to me,” he managed to detach her arms from her midsection and hold her hands in his own. “Victoria,” he breathed her name.

She stopped fighting him, but turned her face away with a moan, hiding behind the curtain of her hair.

“I love you. _You,_ Victoria. Not Elizabeth. Not anyone else. Just you. That will never change. I will not bed Elizabeth. I will not grow to love Elizabeth. Do you hear me, Victoria?”

“But _she_ is Queen now! And I am nothing! I have nothing to give you!”

“You think I only loved you because you were Queen? Do you find it so hard to believe I could love you for you, then? Victoria I don’t give a damn that you’re not Queen, do you hear me? I don’t want a Queen. But I do very much want you. If you happen to be a Queen then I will have to adjust myself to that again. But this is not, and it never has been, about you being Queen! Its about you being you. And me adoring you for it and loving you more than my next breath. When a man loves a woman like I love you, it would take over a thousand Elizabeths to turn his head. My Love, you must trust me. Trust in my love for you. Trust in yourself and know that no force on earth could rip me from your side, save death. Do you understand me?”

She turned her head with a sniffle and met his eyes. “Oh William…it isn’t that I don’t trust you. Of course I do. It is not your intentions.  Only, what if it just happens? Things happen sometimes we don’t intend…you never intended to fall in love with me after all. Love happens whether we intend it or no.”

“It will _not_ happen. It will _not._ ”

“How can you be so certain?” She cried.

He snuffled a laugh. “Because I know my own heart. And it is yours.”

“Oh William,” she said, covering her face with her hands. “I want so much to believe that. But I am so afraid!”

He pulled her into his arms, peace in his heart again as she cried on his shoulder and he comforted her. _This_ he could handle. _This_ he could bear.

“ I hate this place! I hate being alone all day, knowing you are with her. I am so scared I shall lose you, and there is nothing I can do to prevent it! Every moment of every day I am tormented by that fear. I cannot compete with her! She is so beautiful and so elegant, so—tall--and so wise! A far better Queen than I ever was or could hope to be! I have only to see her to feel as if your love must be inevitable. For how can you gaze upon her so long and not love her? How can I possibly complete with her? I cannot even order you to my side any longer! I don’t even know who I am anymore! How can you love me like this? How can you resist her?”

He was so unutterably charmed. No woman...no woman in his life had ever loved him this way.  Yet this beautiful creature in his arms did.  The most beautiful, adorable woman he had ever known.  But how to make her understand this?

He sighed.

“I sometimes wonder the same about Sir Robert Dudley,” he said at last. “I could ask you the same, you know. Why do you love me, Victoria, and not him? He is here for you when I am not. He can be by your side any time he chooses, because I am keeping the Queen occupied. He is handsome, is he not? In a sort of rakish way that I have observed many women find fascinating. He is an accomplished seducer. You know this, I believe, and yet I have seen you fall under his spell from time to time. He taught you to dance. Put his hands on your body. Kissed you passionately. He is…younger than I. More vigorous of body. Probably is a much better lover. I can’t help but think if you got one taste of what he could offer you, then you would no longer enjoy anything I have to give. To say nothing of his wealth and power in this time and place. He could offer you a home. Children even. I…could not compete, you see.” He stroked his eyebrow with a finger and gave her a sad smile. “Yes, it does make me jealous. Makes me rage on the inside every time he comes near you. I have the most primitive urge to smash his face in. I feel—helpless—when I watch you with him. I can only wait and see what your decision will be. And in my own tally, I come up the loser ever time.”

“I should _never_ choose him over you!”

“But why not?” He smiled sadly.

“Because I love you. Not him.”

“But he likes you so very much. He may even be in love with you.  And he is still older than you perhaps, but much closer in age than I.  And handsome.”

“He is handsome. But he cannot hold a candle to you, William.”

“But you see…I think he is more handsome than I am. I worry and wait for the time…you will realize it too.”

“I will never feel so!” She smiled at last, nodding. “But you have only my word to take on that.”

“Precisely. So I have to decide what voice I am going to listen to, you see. Do I listen to my own doubts and fears, my own list of shortcomings set against his strengths, or do I listen to the earnest, heart-felt words that come from my lover’s lips?” He whispered touching his finger to her mouth. “Do you see Victoria? It is not about how I view myself versus my rival, but about how you see me that truly matters.”

She sighed, nodding. “You are right of course. But things are always so much easier to see and understand when you are beside me.”

“I know, My Love. But you must take my words into your heart. So that when you are lonely for me, or your own doubts choke you, you can take them out again.  And let them give you courage.”

She wrapped her arms around him, and William felt himself sigh.

“I will never forsake you, do you hear me? I love you fiercely, my darling girl. More than I have ever loved another. I am afraid you are stuck with me, and so you should learn to get used to that fact.”

She turned her face against his shoulder, and soon he felt the hot wetness of her tears.

William lay his head against hers and held her close, relief flooding him.

“I’m sorry,” she said at length, her hand on his neck, in his hair.

“Shhh…there is nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered.

“I struck you! I yelled at you! I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

“You said it already. You are frightened, and when we are frightened it is sometimes easy to give in to despair. Do not fret. I understand.”

“Please don’t kiss her again,” she cried. “I felt as if my heart was being carved from my body.”

“I did not want to the first time.”

“But yet you did. Please don’t do it again.”

“No. Not again.”

“She will want more from you. No woman alive could bear a taste of you and not wish for more.”

“That is the voice of love,” he said with a chuckle, kissing the top of her head. “God I adore you. Do you know that? I am glad at least that you think that is so.”

“It is true.”

“It is most assuredly not true. I have kissed many women who wanted no more to do with me.”

“I do not understand her at all.”

“Who, my love?”

“Your late wife.”

“Ah.”

“How could she? How could she abide another man when she had you?” She tightened her grip around his body and his heart swelled.

“Oh my sweet, darling girl!”

“I cannot bear the thought.”

“Well. She was very different from you, it is true.”

“I have heard that she was uncommonly…beautiful.”

“Victoria…”

“Do you…that is…still…”

“Love her?”

She nodded.

He sighed. “I loved her a long time, Victoria. And a very long time ago.”

“So you do.”

He shook his head. “A part of me perhaps, will always love her. But it is the love one bears a memory. It has no bearing on the present. Truly I think if I had known you both at the same time, you could have spared me a great deal of heartache and misery.”

“Really?  You would have chosen me over her?”

“It feels—disloyal—of me to say it, but I do. There is no doubt in my heart that you are the greatest love that I have ever known, Victoria. So much so that I wish all the time you were the only one…always and forever. But as that is not possible, I shall have to settle for the future. I can do nothing to change the past.”

“I understand.” She sighed against him. “Forgive me. I do not know why I am feeling so. I feel as if I must be the most awkward and unattractive woman you have ever known. Elizabeth is radiant. And she’s so elegant and sophisticated and…queenly. In a way that I never was. I suppose it is easy for me to give in to such fears.”

“Elizabeth’s radiance is a carefully manufactured facade, Victoria. You should know, you help dress her.”

“Yes but—”

“Your charm and your loveliness is different. It is artless. Entirely truthful. And lovely in a natural way that Elizabeth could never contrive to be. Do not envy her, Victoria. And do not think me charmed by her. I pity her, but I do not desire her. I do, however, lust quite shamefully after you.”

“I am sorry. I should not have become so angry.”

“It is over. It does not matter. I should not have accepted the wager. Can you forgive me, darling?”

“Of course. I suppose this makes us even.”

“I hope forever even. I did not enjoy you being kissed by Sir Robert Dudley either.  Nor do I wish to contemplate it ever happening again.”

“No. I see now how much that must have hurt you.”

He gave her a squeeze. “I do know how much it hurts when your lover is unfaithful to you, Victoria. I would never wish that pain upon my worst enemy. Let alone you. I am sorry I caused you so much pain already. I do not wish to ever do it again.”

“Nor I to you.”

"At least you heard it from me. If Dudley had told you first…”

“Yes. I am glad it was you who told me.”

“It is vital, especially now, that we trust each other, and for that, we must be entirely truthful.  Even if a truth is unpleasant. Any wedge Dudley or Elizabeth could use to separate us they will. If they are successful in creating doubt between us, we will not survive. I swear to you that this is as far as it went, and as far as it will ever go. I will never again allow Elizabeth to manipulate me thus. Not for a kiss, nor anything else.” He hooked a finger beneath her chin and lifted her eyes to his. “I don’t want her,” he said, straight into them, “I don’t love her. And I never shall.” He leaned in and kissed her softly and sweetly.

“These are the lips I hunger for…” he whispered, “the lips I treasure. I crave. I need so badly…”

She melted in his arms. He kissed her deeply then, reaffirming, reassuring her where his love lay. Then he scooped her up into his arms and deposited her back on the bed. He bent to retrieve the warm coverlet and lay it over her shivering body then stoked the fire that had burned low. When the room was warmly glowing again, he crawled back into bed with her, freezing himself and seeking the warmth of her embrace.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has never heard the beautiful song this chapter is named after, it is here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGxtRn10ows  
> Paul's hauntingly beautiful voice sets these gorgeous lyrics off to perfection, and it is well worth a listen, trust me. I have loved this song a long time. But now, it is Lord M's. 
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading. Your comments are always appreciated!


	28. Chapter 28--Tug of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dudley and William have a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It's a tug of war  
> Though I know I mustn't grumble  
> It's a tug of war  
> But I can't let go  
> If I do you'll take a tumble  
> And the whole thing is going to crumble  
> It's a tug of war…”  
> (Paul McCartney, 1982).

Chapter 28—Tug of War

William strolled thoughtfully and reluctantly away from the rooms he shared with Victoria the following morning, the warmth, the scent, the taste of her still clinging to him. He wanted to wrap himself in it like a cloak, wanted to drown in it. Wanted to turn on his heel and return to her this moment, but he could not. He dared not. Once exiting their rooms he must not do anything to bring added suspicion to them.

“Lamb!”

He looked up to see his nemesis sauntering forward, easily on the balls of his feet, the picture of cocksure youthful grace. His eyes narrowed. It was against William’s nature to hate. But if he did ever indulge in the emotion, here would be the second recipient of it within his lifetime. And like his almost hatred for Byron, his near hatred for Robert Dudley was born of jealousy, and fear.

That he was very probably in love with Victoria, William could not fault the man. After all he could not see how all the world was not in love with her. Dudley’s feelings were therefore understandable, and bespoke an exceedingly excellent taste in women that William also had to grudgingly acknowledge.

But that the man continually shadowed her movements, that he was wont to accost her in lonely places and fill her head with bunk and gossip in an effort to distress her, hoping she’d fall into his arms in a fit of despondency, that he’d had the bare-faced gall to take advantage of her by kissing her, he could not forgive.

He waited as the man caught him up. Dudley was in a state of disarray this morning. His dark peacock blue and black doublet was open, and the shirt beneath it not even tied at the throat. He would doubtlessly have suspected a tryst, had not the blasted man been sporting a racket under his arm.

“I was hoping I might catch you one of these mornings. A fine day, is it not?” Dudley said, clapping William on the back with unwanted familiarity. “I was on my way to the tennis court. Care to join me for a bit of exercise?”

“I fear not. I am expected with Her Majesty shortly.”

“Ah. That’s right. I was forgetting. Bess finds you indispensable, I hear, to her recovery. And indeed to her well-being.”

William sighed inwardly. His feelings for the man beside him, it seemed, were returned. Whole-heartedly. But which woman did Dudley truly crave? His Queen Bess or William’s own darling Queen?

“Perhaps I can have a word with her. Surely she does not wish for your own vigorous good health to suffer, Sir, for lack of exercise and sunshine?”

William raised his eyebrows at this. “By all means. I would be much obliged to you, Sir Robert. It has been a long time since I’ve been able to indulge in such frivolous activities as a game of tennis.”

“You are kept…very busy I am sure, in…other pursuits, perhaps?” Dudley’s eyes narrowed.

Yes, there it was. Jealousy. The man was practically seething with it. Let him seethe, William thought, almost in malice.

“Yes but not very athletic ones, I admit.” He smiled and affected a yawn.

“Come now, Sir,” Robert Dudley barked a laugh. “Let us dispense with pretense. It is wearisome. I prefer a more…direct…line of conversation.”

“Indeed?” He lifted his eyebrows in amusement and affected confusion. Here was a game William thrived upon. Dudley was most satisfactorily entering his arena.

“Oh you’re good. You’re very, very good. Whoever you truly are, Sir, you are not the humble bankrupt landowner you would have us believe. You are far too politic for that. I begin to see why Bess is so fascinated with you. But I confess it does not have the same effect on me. Therefore I am more inclined to be suspicious.”

William laughed. “Well Sir, you flatter me, but I fear I am unworthy of such,” he stroked his eyebrow thoughtfully. “I am, disappointingly, a drearily simple man.” He threw up his hands in a helpless gesture to emphasize his point.

“’Drearily simple,’” Dudley laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. “And yet you have captivated the two most desirable women of the English court. How is that possible, for a such a ‘drearily simple man’ as you claim to be?”

“I confess I do not know.”

“One is your lover already. The other…who knows? Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow? I really must congratulate you, Sir, on your stamina. How ever do you manage it? And without taking exercise?” He twirled his racket for emphasis. “But then, perhaps, in the way of such things, you are particularly… _inspired_ to stamina.”

William cocked his head to one side, amusement in his eyes. “Really. And how did you arrive at this theory of yours, Sir Robert? Fascinating as it is.”

“Do not play games with me! We both know it is true.”

“But I thought games were exactly what you were inviting me to play, Sir Robert?” He indicated the tennis racket.

“You are bedding her! Each and every night,” Dudley hissed in his face. “Do not insult me by pretending it is not so. You are practically glowing with it.”

“Who, Sir? I confess I’m lost in this web of intrigue you have spun about me.” He let the humor show in his eyes. If he had time to be completely honest with himself, he might have felt something resembling…smug. Let Dudley eat his heart out. Victoria would never be his.

“Your cousin, of course. The beauteous Viscountess Alexandrina. If indeed she is your cousin at all.”

“If?” William laughed in his face. “Truly Sir Robert, you have an even more active imagination than you have of physick.”

“She is too artless to conceal it. She loves you. Not as a cousin or guardian, but as a lover.”

“Loves me?” His eyebrows shot up as if in surprise. “Sir Robert, I think you mistake a young woman’s gratitude for something more.”

“I think I do not. And we both know it.”

“Surely you hear the absurdity of what you are suggesting? She, a young woman, newly widowed? Granted, we have a great affection for one another, and always have had. But to attach her affections to me in the manner in which you are suggesting is highly unlikely. What in the world could she see in old man such as myself—a penniless old man at that? When she could have a young, strapping man instead? Come, Sir Robert. I think you read entirely more into the situation than is called for. Certainly we both understand that the Viscountess is in a vulnerable state. She’s lost her family. Lost a husband that she loved. Then in very short order, she’s come to a country she knows little about, and found herself in the court of Queen Elizabeth. Surely you can appreciate her situation? I am the only family she has left, after all. The only thing that is…familiar to her. It is natural that she should feel a strong attachment to me in that sense, but that attachment does not extend automatically toward being lovers. This world, with it’s glamour and excitement, is all new to her. Far different from the simpler life she has known until now. She will adjust herself to it in time, I have no doubt. But it is very likely that the chaos of the last few months is only now beginning to affect her. What she needs most of all is time.”

Dudley seemed to digest this speech, nodding. His eyes narrowed on William. Ascertaining. Assessing. It was a look Melbourne was very familiar with, and he schooled his features into his most bland expression of sophisticated, urbane boredom. He had to hand it to Dudley, he thought privately. The man was no fool. But he supposed after the life that the man had lived even by this young age would have necessitated shrewdness. His very survival, much like the Queen’s, depended upon it.

But even for all his acumen, Dudley was not as convinced of his accusations as he seemed. He was fishing…looking for William to betray himself. That was a game that worked well on Victoria, he had no doubt, as inexperienced and artless and overwrought as she was, as well as susceptible to Dudley’s charm. But these weapons were completely ineffective on himself. Dudley would not get such satisfaction out of William.

Eventually Dudley nodded, and William saw the exact moment he began to doubt his assertions. “If I am wrong, I offer you my humblest apologies, Sir.”

“Accepted, of course.”

They walked in silence for some moments. William could feel his opponent’s tension. He was working up to something.

“It is just possible,” Dudley said at length, “That the Viscountess does hold you in greater esteem than you suppose, Sir.”

He lifted his eyebrows in a gesture indicating he had not considered such.

“After all, the Queen herself is besotted with you. And I can assure you I have known Bess since childhood. Rarely have I seen her in such a fever over a man before. It is perhaps possible then, that your effect upon the fairer sex is stronger than you imagine.”

“I confess I do not give much thought to Her Majesty’s affections and where they are bestowed. Such things are far beyond my own concern.”

“In that assumption, you are entirely mistaken.”

“But…I was given to understand that Her Majesty did hold one particular gentleman in most high esteem. And that the man in question was not myself.”

Sir Robert laughed. “We have always been close. And I had thought the same as you. That her affections for me were as unshakable as mine were for her. But I have discovered of late my presence in her life is far less necessary for her happiness as I had once supposed.”

William laughed. “The Queen speaks of you often Sir Robert, in very affectionate terms. I think perhaps you are far more necessary to her well being than you imagine.”

“I thought such things were beyond your concern.”

“They are. I speak to you now only of what she has said to me directly. But beyond what she says, I have nothing to offer up nor to speculate upon. But if you suppose she has forgotten you, you are mistaken.”

“Then answer me one question. Why is it that she calls you to her private chambers to assist in her recovery, and not myself?”

Dudley’s dark eyes sparked with anger. With betrayal and with jealousy, very probably as well. William sighed inwardly.

“I do not know the Queen well enough to say with any certainty, Sir,” William shrugged.

Dudley nodded. “I do. It is because you are her new favorite. You have supplanted me in her affections.” He turned his dark eyes on William. “A lifetime of…companionship…understanding…love…overturned in a moment. For a ‘drearily simple man’ of advancing years.” He shook his head. “You Sir, are a man of sense and culture, wherever you hail from. I will grant you that. But either you are entirely blind to the ways of women, or you are affecting not to notice your power over them. Either way. I can assure you that there are at least two women here present who are wholly captivated by you. Bess is one of them. The Viscountess, the other. Whether you are acquainted with it or not, it does exist. I have seen it shining in her eyes.”

William nodded. “Then I bow to your greater understanding, Sir Robert. And which one is it that you covet the most?”

Dudley laughed. “Well answered, Sir. Has the Viscountess told you that I made her an offer?”

“She has.”

“The offer was a sincere one. I do wish to pay my addresses to her.”

“What has her response been thus far?”

Dudley shrugged. “Difficult to say. I do think she likes me. But there is something…or someone…preventing her from accepting me.”

“Perhaps there is,” William said as they walked. “She was fond of her husband. His death was a shock. She has not yet recovered.”

“I had thought it was you, Sir. But you assure me it is not.”

“So I have,” he said carefully.

“So therefore, there is something I wish to ask you formally. May I have your permission to pay my addresses to your cousin, Sir?”

William took a deep breath. What he had told Victoria the night before was true. He was feeling it strongly now—the primal urge to smash Dudley’s handsome face in. Perhaps to dash it against the nearest obliging stone pillar. It would gratify his basest nature no end to see his rival’s blood splattered against the white marble floors they were currently strolling down. But of course, William was not a savage. Nor was such a remedy the most expedient solution overall. What he wanted more than anything was for Dudley to shine again before Elizabeth. He needed Dudley to take his rightful place at the Queen’s side again, thus allowing history to resume its rightful course, and leaving him blissfully free to claim Victoria openly for his own.

_When in doubt…_

“As I have said before Sir, she needs time. Time to recover from the shocks she has been subjected to. Time to accustom herself to her new life here.”

“Ah. Time,” Dudley said, nodding. “Well. That is a hard won commodity, is it not? It is a luxury not many have.”

“But patience is a necessary virtue nonetheless. If one really wants to achieve one’s prize, occasionally one must be content to leave it well enough alone. Let time heal old wounds. Patience, Sir, I believe, will suit your ends. Do not press her unduly. The Viscountess is a winning creature but do not underestimate her. She has a core of steel. If you press her too far, she will despise you for it. And you will have lost her.”

“And if she is angry with me presently, how am I to proceed?”

“Withdraw your pursuit,” preferably indefinitely, he did not say. “Allow her space. That is the best advice I can offer to you.”

“And what if I do as you suggest, and another moves in?”

“Another would face the same challenges that you do, Sir Robert, in that case. The Viscountess is of a stubborn nature I fear. Press her too far and she will dig in. She will not budge.”

“And what if Bess should select another as her husband in the meantime? Time, as I told you, is a rare commodity that few can afford. Once the Queen has decided the Viscountess must marry, she may choose someone else for her to wed. Whereas if I can win the Viscountess over, I can press my suit with Bess, citing the Viscountess’s affections in support of my offer. Since the Queen does not require me as strongly as she once did, perhaps she will grant me this favor, at least. And allow me to marry again.”

William’s stomach turned violently. The scenario Dudley had put forth ran cold fingers down his spine. It was a very likely one, far too likely for his comfort. Could he use his position with the queen to delay her deciding upon Victoria’s marriage? Or would his attempts to do so only hasten it?

“And should I manage to succeed with her,” Dudley continued, “Could I count on you accept my offering for her, Sir? I can assure you I have income sufficient enough to support her in grand style. She will want for nothing. And there is promise of more…perhaps even of higher station than she currently enjoys. I can give her the quiet life she seeks. Far away from court, and even from me if she desires it. Bess will doubtless wish me to remain at court. Which would give her seclusion in great comfort. With children, of course. My only real stipulation. I do after all, wish for heirs. My poor first wife died before she could bear them for me. But I would not bother Alexandrina overmuch, if she did not wish it. Once a male child is born.”

William was feeling decidedly sick. His breakfast threatened to rebel. But he swallowed his bile and continued playing the role he’d chosen for himself.

“I see,” he said simply.

“I can assure you my offer is far more reasonable than what else is like to come her way. Other men may not be so generous with her. Or so kind. I intend to be kind, of that I can assure you most readily. To treat her with gentleness. With deference, and understanding. I would never…force her. Others might, while giving her far less in return than I am willing to offer her. Indeed Sir, I am in earnest. I will make whatever offer for her that you deem acceptable. For ever since seeing you both in the Presence Chamber, I have never been the same.”

“You were in the Presence Chamber the day we came before the Queen? I had not realized that.”

“We had yet to be introduced. I was actually present on the first day of your arrival at the palace. I confess I watched the Viscountess all morning. I could not take my eyes from her. She was so exquisitely tiny. So perfectly proportioned. And the face of an angel…with such blue eyes as I have never seen before. And then I could not rest until I had found out who she was.”

William went very still inside. There had been someone…someone who had championed their cause. Someone very close to the Queen, for they were seen the very next morning. First.

“I was aware that someone had put her forward…brought her to the attention of the Queen. For how else had it come to be that we were given an audience first thing the next day?”

“I see you have uncovered me,” Dudley said simply. “I confess it was I. Such a beautiful creature as she is…I could think of nothing once I had set eyes on her but bringing her to court. Once having seen her…how could I let her escape?”

“So it would seem,” William said at length, “It would seem she has much to thank you for, Sir Robert.”

He shrugged. “My motives were entirely selfish. The pleasure of her being here…that is thanks enough for me. For the moment. I will attempt to give her…time…as you suggest. But can I at least have the satisfaction of knowing my address will be acceptable when the time comes?”

“What about the Queen, Sir Robert? Have your affections for her changed?”

“You ask me this? You, who spend the whole of every day by her side?” Sir Robert’s dark eyes flashed. “Yes. Something has changed. You. You have come and now she doesn’t even see me! She has eyes for no other!”

“But you wish it were otherwise? I ask because you wish me to consider your suit to the Viscountess. I have to wonder if your feelings for the Viscountess are genuine, or is she meant to be some kind of…consolation…to you for the woman you would rather have.”

“Bess will never have me. I thought at one time she may but…” he shook his head. “That time is past. Yes. The Viscountess is a consolation to me. Am I any less deserving than any other man of the consolation of a woman of his own? What do my feelings, or your feelings, or anyone’s _feelings_ have to do with anything? Bess is concerned only with her own feelings. She likes men, Sir. She likes the flirtation. The chase. She likes to let them…dangle at her beck and call. Her prisoners and playthings forever more. Held in a hellish limbo whereby they cannot seek a wife or a lover without risking her jealousy and retribution! But not actually able to truly consummate their relationship with her either.” He sighed. “You will learn the true consequences of being the Queen’s favorite soon enough. All other women will be forbidden to you. And if you so much as look upon another, you will risk her wrath. T’would be better to live in cloister as a monk than to be the Queen’s favorite. For at least then you would have willingly taken a vow of chastity. The outcome is much the same. Only Bess does not give you a choice.”

He nodded. “You feel very deeply for the Queen.”

“It is of no consequence.”

“But it is. Perhaps the Viscountess is not the only one who needs time, Sir Robert? It is unfair, is it not, to press suit upon a woman…to make her believe you love her when you know full well you love another.”

“But I do love her. Every day that goes by, I love the Viscountess more.”

“But not the Queen less?”

He didn’t answer.

“The Viscountess deserves a man to love her. Fully and wholly for herself. And not because she provides comfort to a man for loss of another he prefers more!”

“I offer her far more than any other randy nobleman in the whole country will offer her! I offer her independence! Status! Safety! Wealth! Children! And to all this, the ability to call me to her bed when she wills it, but never to force my self and my affections upon her! I offer to win her over, rather than force her against her will--I ask you, Sir, what more could a woman require?”

“Your heart.”

“Heart, Sir?” He scoffed. “Perhaps you are from the country, after all. To be so innocent as to think one’s heart matters at all in marriage! Only peasants marry for love. We are called to a different life here. Heart has nothing to do with it. Heart, in this place, is a liability one cannot afford.”

“I shall not approve a match for her that does not carry with it the heart of the man in question.”

“Then I daresay the Viscountess would be better off in a nunnery.”

“Perhaps she would. But she has not the temperament for it.”

“Sir, do you not understand? Once Bess decides it is time for her to marry, the Viscountess _will_ marry. And it will be whomever the Queen decides, with or without your approval, or the heart of the man in question, or any thought given to any other consideration. To say nothing of the heart of the Viscountess.  Unless she can be persuaded ahead of time.  And then maybe, just maybe, the Viscountess has some prayer of marrying a man who desires and respects her and will care for her well-being and not just his own!”

“The Queen has promised I shall have the final say.”

“And you believed her?” Robert Dudley laughed. “My dear Sir. I confess I have indeed had you wrong. I thought you most politic indeed.” He clapped William on the shoulder again. “You have a lot to learn about Bess. And exactly what her promises mean. Come Sir. Let us both appeal to the Queen. Perhaps together we can convince her that it is time her favorite receive some exercise to keep up his strength.”


	29. Chapter 29--Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth has recovered, and Dudley and William have engaged in an exhibition tennis match to celebrate. 
> 
> We are nearing the event horizon of the climax now. Buckle up and hang on to your hats...there's turbulence ahead!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rather more lyrics this time than normal. But somehow, all these little pieces of songs from the Who's album It's Hard seemed to fit very well...
> 
> “Can you feel it?  
> Watching you in the darkness  
> Touching you like a sickness  
> Fear is taking control….
> 
> And that makes us dangerous  
> We're all dangerous  
> to ourselves….”  
> (”Dangerous”, The Who, 1982)
> 
> “I know you--young and dumb,  
> I know where you're comin' from.  
> Don't know where you're goin' to,  
> But I been there same as you,  
> You're running out of ideas,  
> And new hats to try on.
> 
> I know you--middle age  
> Same song, different page,  
> I know what you're goin' through  
> Made the same mistakes as you,  
> All you want is some hope  
> And a shoulder to cry on….
> 
> It's your turn, step up and take it  
> If you've got the guts to hang on  
> You can make it.  
> Come on…oooh take it!”  
> (”Its Your Turn,” The Who, 1982)
> 
> “Anyone can do anything if they hold the right card,  
> So I'm thinking about my life now--  
> I'm thinking very hard
> 
> Deal me another hand Lord, this one's very hard…”  
> (”It’s Hard,” The Who, 1982)
> 
> “The sun shines  
> And people forget…  
> Forget they're hiding…
> 
> Behind an eminence front  
> Eminence front - It's a put on…
> 
> Won't you come and join the party  
> Dress to kill…  
> Dress yourself to kill--”  
> (”Eminence Front”, The Who, 1982)

Chapter 29—Dangerous

 

In less than a fortnight, Elizabeth had recovered. Her doctor had given her the go-ahead to resume her normal activities.

The Palace began to shake itself out of it’s slumber. Activity was everywhere. From the lowest to the highest—stewards and cooks, chambermaids, ladies-in-waiting, courtiers and palace officials alike--all zipped as one body to and fro among the gracious colonnades, the many buildings, surrounding gardens and flowing marble halls that made up Whitehall palace.

The Queen’s wardrobe was equally busy. Lady Stafford was a pillar of efficiency. Having spent the days of the Queen’s repose in readying for this day, she had everything polished and freshened and mended and cleaned until the wardrobe gleamed and sparkled with a dazzling array of options. The Queen sailed through station after station like a majestic galleon, being fitted and constructed as she went, until her radiance was blinding.

When Victoria came face to face with her again, her insides were a clamor. How would she look Elizabeth in the eye without the Queen knowing…seeing the turmoil she was in? As the Queen approached her station, Victoria deliberately recalled to mind what she and William had shared, and all the things he had said to her.

Trust. He had said they must have it, or they would not survive. He said he loved her—would never love another woman, no matter how glorious. She was determined to hold on to that now. To be strong. She must be stronger than she had been. She must not let William down.

He was hers, she reminded herself as the Queen drew closer. No matter how beautiful Elizabeth was, William was hers. Her rival would never hold him, never feel him move inside of her. Never even come close to the intimacy she shared with him. Those things were for her alone.

She drew herself up and took a deep, steadying breath for courage.

The Queen had locked eyes with her as she approached, a most radiant smile of pleasure on her full lips.

Lips that William had kissed…

She pushed the thought away violently. She must not think of that now. She must not show jealousy or weakness to the Queen.

“Viscountess!” She extended a long white hand and Victoria accepted it with a kiss of deference. “We have missed you. How have you been faring?”

“Very well, Your Majesty,” she said, carefully suppressing her anger as she curtsied. Elizabeth knew very well how she’d fared, but Victoria dared not think on that now. “I am happy to see you are so well recovered.”

“We are,” she said brightly. “And eager to resume our normal life at last. Lady Stafford has told us that you have been invaluable to her.”

“Lady Stafford is very kind. I have tried to make myself useful as I can, Your Majesty.”

“You have succeeded, it seems. Please. Help us on with our jewelry. This one, we think, would be most suitable for this gown.” She pointed to a long row of large, perfectly round pearls, clasped in the middle with a ruby brooch trimmed in elegant diamonds.

Victoria hurried to drape it around Elizabeth’s delicate white shoulders. The ruby brooch fell to her midsection, the pearls swung heavily past her waist.

“And this. Do you not think?” Elizabeth selected a matching ruby pendant, which Victoria pinned to her bodice, just along her neckline.

Drop pearl earrings studded with diamonds, and a brilliant ruby and diamond tiara trimmed with pearls completed the Queen’s jewelry that day, in addition to her usual rings.

Victoria viewed her predecessor with a sinking heart. How could William not be moved by her brilliance? Something about Elizabeth was blinding. Mesmerizing. How could he possibly spend the majority of his days with her and not be effected by her? Elizabeth sailed by, blazing like the sun in a dress of scarlet silk embroidered with gold and silver birds that set her creamy skin and auburn hair off to perfection.

How could he have ever found herself attractive, with women like Elizabeth in the world? She was so small and plain by comparison, like a brown moth perched on a brilliant red flower. Looking and feeling so unremarkable, so very plain when set against such brilliance. How could he truly prefer herself to what he could have?

But even as these thoughts flashed across her mind, she endeavored to put William’s advice to use. She called instead to her mind his words of love, his tender caresses, the heat in his eyes when he looked at her…

It didn’t entirely silence her fears, but it did help.

“See?” Lady Stafford said into her ear. “I told you we could work you back into her favor. Be at peace now, my dear. The Queen smiles on you. All is well.”

Victoria attempted a smile. At least she did look more kindly on her now, she thought. Though she supposed that to have been more William’s doing than anything Lady Stafford or herself had done.

She watched the Queen finish her levee and exit through the far end door.

No, her heart whispered, all was not well. But at least perhaps she and William had attained for her a certain stability that would prevent the Queen from taking further actions against her. The longer she was allowed to remain at court unmarried, the better.

She supposed that was a victory in and of itself.

* * *

The day was to be a day of celebration of the Queen’s recovery. William had told her of his part in things the night before.

“Your Robert Dudley has arranged a tennis tournament, between me and himself,” he’d smiled ruefully at her.

“He is not my Robert Dudley! I wish you would not call him so.”

“He wishes to be.”

“I do not wish him to be!”

William had smiled and kissed her soundly, her words having pleased him.

“Nevertheless…it seems I will be trounced soundly in the morning before the whole Court. Shall I embarrass you greatly if I am so shamed? I have never been much of a tennis player. I suspect that is the point, after all. To make himself look better and myself worse.”

“Is it my poor opinion of you or the Queen’s which upsets you most?” She had not been able to stop herself asking.

He laughed. “I should hope you know the answer to that by now,” he whispered, squeezing her familiarly on the bottom and making her squeak.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you should,” his lips found her throat, and he place a series of delicious little kisses all down its length. “Do I not remind you of that every night? Whose bed do I return to, Victoria? Yours or hers?”

“It is hard to say,” she’s said, “I do not see you the whole of every day. Perhaps you return to us both.”

He’d laughed as he’d taken her earlobe between his teeth. “How I love your great opinion of my prowess, my darling, that you think me capable of going at it all day and night. For as we both know, you keep me most agreeably busy nearly the whole of the night, and you suppose her to do the same during the day.”

“Well. I do happen to know your appetite is voracious. And though we have had some rather lengthy interludes, you are always ready again at a moment’s notice.”

“But that is because I am with you,” he said with a chuckle, his lips now covering her face with gorgeous kisses.

“Has it not…always been so? With your other lovers I mean?”

He smiled into her eyes and nuzzled her. “No,” he whispered, kissing her eyebrows, her eyelids softly. “Never before has it ever been like this for me.”

“Really?” She’d whispered. “How does it…normally work then?”

He chuckled. “Well. Normally after coming as hard as you bring me, Ma’am, I would need a considerable time to recover.” His eyes had darkened, and he was regarding her with a look she knew very well.

“Do I bring you so very hard then…Lord M?” She’d whispered wickedly, smoothing her hands over his chest.

“You know you do…Ma’am.”

“And do I make you so very hard beforehand?”

He’d groaned. “Oh yes you do.”

Oh how she adored this. How she adored playing with him. Teasing him.

“Was it so in the beginning?” She raised her eyes to him innocently. “Before we were intimate?”

“More than I hope you are aware of…Ma’am.”

She smiled. “How did I never notice before?”

“Well…because I never let you notice.”

“How ever did you prevent it? You are hard to miss. I cannot imagine how I never saw you through your breeches.”

She adored the color that rose to his cheeks.

“Minx. Because I have had a lifetime’s practice at concealing such things when necessary,” he said, eyes now heavy lidded as he smiled down on her.

“Is that why you always stood with your folders and documents and gloves just there?” She asked in sudden inspiration.

His eyebrows twitched, and she knew she had guessed right. She laughed out loud then.

“Oh my poor Lord M! As often as that? I cannot seem to remember you ever standing in another way!”

His cheeks reddened further.

“Well, it would not do for you to see the effect you had on me, after all. How ever could I explain such to you at the time? And you were most inquisitive, after all, Ma’am.”

“Especially where you were concerned,” she said, kissing him, loving the way he returned her kiss with such eagerness.

“How I dreamed in those days of the pleasure of simply holding you in my arms,” he said when she released him. “Of placing my hands on you and drawing you close. Just once. Just to feel you once pressed against me…”

She kissed him again, and neither of them had said anything again for quite some time.

She smiled to herself with the memory as she went down to breakfast in the great hall before making her way to the tournament.

She hoped fervently that Robert Dudley did win the tournament today. Perhaps then the Queen would again be enamored of him, and she and William would both finally be free.

* * *

The tennis court was in another part of the palace. Far from the presence chamber and the main hall, closer perhaps to the room where she had had her dance lesson with Robert Dudley, but she was not entirely certain.

“Come, Viscountess,” The Queen said to her upon her arrival at the court. “You will accompany us to the tournament this morning. It is very exciting, is it not? Two such handsome men as your cousin, Our Lamb, and Sir Robert, Our Eyes will be competing for our favor. We admit we have been greatly anticipating this day.”

The morning was bright, and the sun poured in through the large windows on the upper story of both sides of the tennis court, bathing the entirety of the play in brilliant sunlight. The main gallery ran all along one side of the court, which was divided in half with a long red net, and numbered along even lines dividing both sides all the way back to the walls. The gallery was covered over with roof, so that the whole of the onlookers were recessed in shade. But this was the gallery reserved for the the regular courtiers. The Queen’s gallery was behind the service end of the court.

It was here where Elizabeth took up a central spot on a tufted throne set out specifically for her. Victoria took her place on one of the benches nearby. She had a very good view of the court, as Elizabeth made a point of seating her closer to the viewing windows on account of her height. Victoria would normally have fumed over this, but she was too keen to see William and so put her offense aside.

Soon after Elizabeth was seated, the players took the field. The women in the Queen’s gallery gasped. Both men were in disarray, their doublets cast aside, playing only in their white linen shirts open at the neck. Victoria had to agree it was a majestic spectacle indeed. William’s pantaloons were dark gray slashed with blue, Dudley’s were brighter, in red and gold that matched the Queen’s gown. Each brought with him his racket and a basket of balls. Both stopped to bow before the Queen. Victoria made eye contact only briefly with William, who gave her a very quick nod of encouragement before taking his position on the receiving end of the court, facing toward the service end. Robert Dudley took up position just in front of the box. He turned to see her, smiled and winked. Then, raised his eyes to the Queen, bowed in deference once again, and blew her a kiss.

“Get on with you, Robbie,” the Queen called playfully. “Play or get off the court.”

“Oh play I shall,” he said a playful grin splitting his features. “Have no fear, Majesty.”

Dudley served the ball first. He hit it in the direction of the gallery, allowing the ball to roll and bounce across the roof towards William’s side of the court, where it bounced down into the receiving area where William waited. William let it bounce once before returning it, and Dudley returned again.

Back and forth it went until it finally landed on William’s side. The score was called and Sir Robert served again.

As the game progressed, it was clear that Sir Robert was indeed the better player, Victoria owned. But her darling William was doing rather well. The game was not so different in her own time as it was in Elizabeth’s, but the rules had changed somewhat.

When it was time for William to take his turn on the serving side of the court, his face was pouring with sweat, his hair curling ferociously with the extra moisture and glistening with it as he shook himself, the loose folds of his white shirt sticking to the hard lines and muscles of his body. He plucked at the neck, fanning with the thin fabric to cool himself, and gave Victoria a small smile.

Victoria loved watching him from this close proximity, albeit behind him. She enjoyed watching his body move and flex through the flowing, damp folds of his shirt as he served and returned the ball with powerful strokes. She knew every inch of his body so well. She had run her hands—her lips—over those glorious muscles, had felt their power as he moved inside of her…

As if divining her thoughts, William turned. His eyebrows quirked upwards as his green eyes locked with hers for a moment, lit with amusement and another emotion she knew well. He knew she liked his body, knew she would be admiring it in action and was rather shamelessly enjoying her enjoyment of him, she realized. Showing off in his way just as Sir Robert was. She raised an eyebrow at him playfully in return, and his grin grew broader as he turned back to the game.

“One would never know Viscountess,” the Queen said to her at one time, “that your cousin suffered so from gout. He plays with the grace and prowess of a much younger man. Indeed he is giving Our Eyes quite a match.”

“I believe his gout comes upon him rather suddenly,” Victoria said, lost in the spectacle of William’s shoulder muscles flexing beneath the thin, clinging white shirt as he served the ball. “But today indeed he seems very vigorous.”

“And quite handsomely so,” the Queen continued. “Our Lamb, it seems, has become a Lion on the court!” She called out, “Take care, Eyes, lest you be devoured!”

The galleries both erupted in applause, Victoria included, and she noted William’s strong cheekbones again touched with red that was not entirely exertion.

Sir Robert, Victoria noticed, was looking particularly grim at this, his dark eyes flashing angrily as he waited in the receiving end of the court for William to serve again.

William did so, a beautiful serve that bounced and rolled obligingly across the roof of the gallery and swiftly down into the receiving end where Dudley awaited it. Dudley smacked the ball hard with his racket.

The ball flew across the court like a comet.

Victoria was on her feet, frozen in horror, watching in slow motion as the ball connected with William’s head.  He spun around slightly with the force of the blow and crumpled to the ground, hitting the court first with his knees, then his shoulder and finally his head.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

She didn’t remember screaming, or running onto the court, but somehow she reached his side, fell to her knees and scooped his head onto her lap.  He was unconscious, and there was a trickle of blood running from his head down his ear where his head had struck the court. “No,” she whispered, wetting her trembling fingers with it, trying to stop the flow. “No God, please…oh God NO!!” Her hands fluttered helplessly over his face. “William, my darling—cousin…oh please William! Wake up!”

She cradled his head in her lap, stroking his hair, a keening sob escaping from her. No longer caring who saw her, or what anyone said or thought, she bent over him, her tears mingling with the sweat and blood. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered, planting a single kiss on his brow. “Oh please don’t leave me…”

She was dimly aware of a commanding female voice nearby. Elizabeth’s. She heard distantly Sir Robert’s outraged reply. Then, shadows gathered around them. Kindly voices, coaxing. Hands grabbing, pulling at William. She fought against them.

_No! No…do not take him now! Let me care for him…_

Words swirled around her in a dim fog, some eventually penetrated. William was lifted gently off of her.

“Alive”…“Doctor”…”stretcher”…”bear him forth”…”the Queen’s chamber”…

“NOOO!!” She stood up, blinding reaching towards him, throwing herself upon his prone form. They were carrying him away! “I will stay with him! He is all I have left in the world!” She sobbed, seeking the one face who could help her. The Queen stood stock still, her white face ashen even beneath her heavy make up. “PLEEASE!!!” It was a plea and a scream all at once, straight from her heart into the Queen’s eyes. “Let me…c-care for him. The way he has c-cared for me. Oh please…I beg of you, do not take him now!”

“Bear him to his own chambers.” The Queen said in a peculiar, flat tone. “Alert us as soon as he is recovered.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, allowing herself to be peeled off of William now, and feeling her own strength quite desert her. “Oh thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

The Queen did not reply, but nodded once in acknowledgment. Victoria was too far gone in her own fear for William to note the tickle of danger that fluttered dimly along her spine.

Victoria followed William, seeing nothing and no one but the man being carried before her on a makeshift stretcher, distantly aware she was being supported by a kindly hand. Lady Stafford.

“Th-thank the Queen for me,” she mumbled, “I fear I have—g-given of-fense…” her teeth were chattering.

“I will speak with her. Think no more of it for the moment. It has been a great shock…a great shock…but he will recover, my dear! The doctor says he will. His injury could have been far worse. Take heart in that. All else will be well.”

But she could not take comfort. Not at all. She had seen Dudley’s eyes as he his racket had hit the ball.

It had been deliberate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, turbulence.
> 
> The type of tennis played in both Elizabeth's time and Victoria's is something that is known in the modern world as "real tennis". Lawn tennis, or tennis as we know it, did not come into being until much later in the 19th century...well past Lord Melbourne's death. More information on this form of the game can be seen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hk3d5Tl_2mY


	30. Chapter 30--Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William begins to recover. But questions of their future and safety hang in the balance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “…Only when you're sleeping  
> Can you drift away  
> No one can hurt you  
> Listen to the secret of your dreams  
> Though you want to sleep forever  
> Still you must return….
> 
> In the middle of the night  
> Is that your voice I hear?  
> Or the wind that's calling  
> Back across the years?
> 
> Have you reached your breaking point?  
> Have you reached your breaking point, tonight?”  
> (The Moody Blues, 1988).
> 
>  
> 
> “Listen to the colour of your dream…”  
> (”Tomorrow Never Knows”, The Beatles, 1967).

Chapter 30—Breaking Point

_He was home. Home at Brocket Hall at last. Puttering through his greenhouse, William tried to make sense of the mess. Why had he not tended his orchids in so long? What had he been doing—what had he allowed to take him so far away that his garden could show such neglect? There were weeds everywhere. And he was mildly surprised to find he didn’t know where to begin to put things right. Should he weed the flower beds? Should he water and feed them? Should he prune? Or pollinate?_

_This one looked dreadful, he thought with chagrin. Once a tall, proud white orchid plant, it was withering. Turning brown, it’s once snowy petals curling inward upon itself, as dried and brown as autumn leaves. Such a shame. Victoria’s favorite…_

_Victoria…_

_He must save…he must save it. For Victoria._

_No, he must save Victoria!_

_Why was he here among his flowers if Victoria needed saving? He must get out of here! He must return to her at once!_

“William…”

_He thought he could hear her voice. Was she here? No, please no! She mustn’t see his greenhouse like this. Such a state of disarray was not fit for her eyes…not fit for his Queen…_

_Flustered, he hurried through the winding paths. Why was it so dark, after all? It shouldn’t be nighttime already, surely? Why was his greenhouse so filled with shadows…_

“William!”

_The voice—her voice—was very near. His heart in his throat, he sprinted toward it. What if she had seen the mess already? What if she had come upon her favorite and seen that he had allowed it to come to the brink of death?_

“William!”

_No! That wasn’t Victoria…who’s voice was that? Wait, that was Caro.   Caro? How could that be? Caro was dead…_

“Husband!” _The voice hissed._

_Definitely Caro. Her tone was sharp and chiding, and somehow managed to infuse within it all his shortcomings, and all her disdain. He opened his mouth to call to her, but no sound came forth._

“William!”

_Victoria again? How could that be? He stood frozen, not knowing what to do. Which way to go. Who’s voice to turn to._

“Oh William! Please!”

_That settled it. He ran in the direction of the voice of the woman he loved more than anything else…anyone else…he’d ever known. Including his poor wife._

I’m sorry Caro, _he thought._ So sorry…I’ve been such a disappointment to you, haven’t I? Not what you wanted or needed at all. I’m sorry I couldn’t fix things…I’m sorry I couldn’t save you…

_But there was another woman, a young woman, he could save. A woman who counted on him…who needed him beyond all measure. A woman for whom he was the moon and stars, who loved him in spite of his many faults. Who overlooked them and embraced him anyway._

_For her, he would lay down his life. For her, nothing was too difficult…too insurmountable…or too demeaning. He would do anything to save her. Anything to support her. Anything at all…_

_A woman worthy of so much more, but who had given her heart to him anyway._

“Please, oh please!!! William!”

_The desperation in her tone set him alight with purpose and determination. He must find her! He must!_

_The greenhouse was now filled with fog. Had he left the door open when he had come in? He didn’t remember it having been a particularly foggy day. But the end result was that he had lost all his bearings, and her voice seemed to come from everywhere, and nowhere, all at once._

_He must get out. Of that he was certain. He must! Everything depended upon it…she depended upon it…upon him…Victoria needed him…he could feel her need tugging at him...he must answer...he must!_

_He struggled. He must find his way out. He must…choose a path…but which path?  Her voice was all around him, ricocheting off the glass ceiling.  Everywhere.  And nowhere...._

***

William opened his eyes and blinked, gasping. He was…he was…

Where was he?

He was lying in a heavy fourposter bed with blue drapes trimmed in gold. This wasn’t his bed. Where the hell was he?

Wherever he was, there was a raging fire in the hearth. And tall tapestries depicting hunting scenes.

Tapestries?

He turned his head with difficulty to look around himself more and groaned. His head was pounding with pain. Too much brandy? But surely not--it had been years since he’d last had a hangover.

“William?”

He turned to see…and blinked. Hard. No, it couldn’t be!

His little Queen sat in an old-fashioned, low-backed tufted chair near his bedside. She was all loveliness, dressed in a dark blue gown slashed with light blue. Odd style, he thought. But he didn’t care. Though her doll-like features were drawn in lines of weariness, she smiled at him bravely, her lashes beating back…tears? Her expression soft as she gazed at him.

“You’re awake! Oh! Thank God you’re awake!”

She captured his hand in hers before he could react, and his heart felt it would explode for sheer pleasure at this token of her great regard for him. She pressed his hand, squeezing and stroking and petting him softly. He squeezed hers feebly back in response.

“Y-yes. I think so.” He blinked hard again, trying to clear his mind as much as his vision.

How was she here? Why was she here?

Where was here?

Slowly, dimly he began to remember himself and tried to sit up—it wasn’t proper for the Queen to see her Prime Minister lying down in what could only be a state of the most unseemly disarray…and in bed at that. It wasn’t at all proper. If the papers got a hold of this there would be no end to the amount of salacious scandal she would be subjected to.

He made it as far as his elbows, and the room promptly started spinning.

He closed his eyes with a groan and fell back against his pillow, defeated.

“M-ma’am,” he managed, his voice sounding hoarse and slurred. “I fear I am…unable to…’tend you today.”

“Oh L—William!” She threw herself against his side, and he patted her head absently. It wasn’t proper decorum at all—her current proximity or her intimate use of his first name--but he hadn’t the heart or the strength to remind her of that. Besides, he was too far gone in the pleasure of touching her in such an intimate fashion to bring himself to correct it. Such silky, beautiful hair…

“Don’t cry…Ma’am,” he mumbled, feeling unaccountably weary. “What troubles you so?”

Her hand cupped his face. He gasped. He really should stop her now. He really should. But he found himself luxuriating in the touch of the coolness of her fingertips, and the soft caress of her thumbs brushing his skin. She was balm to everything that ailed him, body and soul. He sighed shamefully, silently begging her to never stop touching him.

“Oh my brave cousin,” she whispered, “you were…injured. But you’re going to be well now. I shall tend you. I shall see to it that you are well.”

“Cousin?” He slurred. Did he hear her right?

“Yes,” Victoria’s eyes widened as if startled by his question. She fixed him with an intent look. “Cousin William, do you not remember playing tennis with Sir Robert Dudley?”

“Sir Robert…” Dudley? Did she say Sir Robert _Dudley?_ Did she call him _cousin?_

Something must be wrong with his ears.

He looked around himself blinking, confused. Where in blazes was he?  How had he come to be here?  And why the devil did he feel like he'd been thrown from a horse and kicked in the head on the way down?

“Please inform Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, that my cousin has awaken, but is confused. He must not have any visitors until he has regained his strength. And if you would be so kind as to request that the chambermaid bring us water and some rags. And send up a pitcher of ale and a plate of food.”

A figure he had not noticed before made Victoria a curt bow and left the room. When the door closed behind him, Victoria exhaled loudly.

“Ma’am…I…”

Before he could speak again, he was astonished to find the Queen of England had turned to him, and with no prelude whatsoever pressed her sweet, rosebud lips to his in a kiss!

A…very…passionate…kiss…

William melted, all his gentlemanly protestations dying on his tongue. Oh God in his heaven! What had he possibly done so right to deserve such a sumptuous gift! Oh bloody, _bloody_ hell…he knew he really should not but…damned if he could help himself. He kissed her back, far more comprehensively than he should. He would stop her soon, he promised himself, if she did not.

Soon…but not just yet.

Oh, she was glorious! Perfect in every way! No fantasy he had ever had could come close to this reality of her. Her scent, her taste, the feel of her luscious lips filled his senses, and for a time, he could no longer feel either his headache, or his dizziness. All that existed in the world was her. This woman. This beautiful, adorable woman, whom he loved body, heart and soul, and her soft, sweet mouth sliding sensuously against his own.

He must put a stop to this. He must! But oh, every second this lasted was so sweet. Sweeter than anything he’d ever experienced. He sighed against her mouth, ripples of pleasure bubbling dangerously through him.  Despite his pain and weariness, his groin stirred.  It would be so easy, he reflected.  So easy to fall into her kiss, to forget who he was, who she was, to make her his own.

She shivered when he sighed, her kiss becoming even more sensual, her lips parting, taking his between them, sucking them gently, her tongue darting out to taste him.

He gasped. Not only had the gesture itself shocked him but…damn his eyes, where did his sweet, innocent girl learn to kiss like this? The fact that she’d learned at all upset him. What man had been kissing his darling girl—and like this? His adorable little queen? For that was how he thought of her. _His_. He had no right to, of course.  And he knew he never would.  But despite the realities, a wave of hot jealousy swept him.  How dare any man other than himself kiss her this way?  Whoever he was, William hated him to the marrow of his bones.  Him, and any other man she would ever kiss...ever take to her bed...

Shocked as he was, aware as he was of the hopelessness of his situation, his response was instant and as inevitable as breathing. He moaned against her. He couldn’t help himself. He had fantasized—yearned for such a moment for so long. He couldn’t break this kiss. Not now. So he allowed himself a few more moments to bask in the glory of what she gave him, enough to commit every moment, every detail to memory, locking every sweet touch of her mouth deep in his heart.  He would treasure this memory above all others.  Forever.

So he allowed himself this moment.  He returned her kiss, opening his mouth against hers, sliding his tongue into the sweetness of her mouth, tasting her, kissing her deeply and completely, pouring his heart and soul into it, letting her taste the depth of his love, his adoration of her.  No other...no other man...could possibly love her like he could.  And he would have her know it, now and for all time.  If this was to be the one moment they shared together, he would have her remember it.  _I am yours,_ his kiss whispered, _now and for all time.  Remember...oh my darling girl, remember how I love you so..._

He was rewarded with the dearest little sighs and gasps, and he felt her melt bonelessly against him.  Dear God in heaven, how he wanted her!  Despite the pain and the dizziness, he wanted. Oh, how he wanted! 

Headstrong, foolhardy, adorable, darling woman! Oh, what she did to him! Did she not understand? She should not be here! Not in his bedchamber, alone--even if he was ill.  She should never have offered him this, and he certainly should never have accepted. But now she had, and he had returned it. And he wanted it to never end.  He wanted this, and so much more. 

He kissed her a little longer, worshiping her lips with his mouth, his tongue, until they were both breathless. Then slowly, gently, so gently, still cradling her face in his hands, he pulled away.

He indulged himself in the sight of her, eyes half closed, lips swollen and pink from his attentions, breathing shallow as she gazed at him, her every feature stamped with desire.

Desire for him.

Oh yes, he would remember this moment until his dying day.

“Ma’am, I…”

“Do you remember now?” She whispered, voice so sultry and husky that he felt his breath catch.

“Remember, Ma’am?” He was lost in her eyes. Lost in her scent, her taste, his mouth longing for hers again. To hell with how dizzy he felt, he thought. And propriety be damned. 

But his words had had an effect. Concern banished the lust from her eyes and she blinked at him, biting her lip as she looked hard into his eyes.

“Do…” she licked her lips nervously, “Do you not remember where we are?”

“The Palace? Though it looks a bit medieval for Buckingham. Windsor?”

She shook her head, paling visibly. “We are at Whitehall Palace.”

He shook his head. “Whitehall?  There is no Whitehall Palace, Ma'am.  It was destroyed. Sometime. I can’t remember now.” His head fell back against the pillow, dizziness claiming him again. “No. Can’t be Whitehall. Your Majesty must be mistaken.”

“William, you must listen to me very closely. I am not mistaken. We are in the past. You and I we--traveled, somehow--to the time of Elizabeth the First. Do you not remember? The shooting star? Finding me in the street? Coming to Elizabeth’s court? Elizabeth herself? Robert Dudley?”

His head was spinning. He groaned.

“That doesn’t…make sense…”

“Nevertheless. We are here. And there’s more. Here I am not ‘Your Majesty.’ I am not Queen. Elizabeth is Queen. I am the Viscountess Alexandrina from Prussia. I am a widow. And your cousin. You must address me either as Viscountess or cousin.”

He absorbed this. It tickled his mind. It sounded familiar and yet…

He turned his head, indulging himself in the looking at her. She was pale, he was alarmed to see. And there were tracks on her cheeks where her salt tears had flowed. Her eyes were red rimmed and swollen, but the blues of her eyes were as bright as a summer sky. He smiled, too tired to hide the traces of his fondness from her.

She laughed a little to see his face.

“Am I too impertinent?” He whispers. “Will you indulge your sick and old Prime Minister enough to let him look upon you thus?”

“You are not old. Nor are you my Prime Minister at the moment, Cousin. And you are not sick, you were injured. You were hit in the head with a tennis ball. You hit the floor and were knocked unconscious. You have just waken up.”

“A tennis ball? Really? Was I really playing tennis with Sir Robert Dudley? THE Sir Robert Dudley?”

“Yes you were. There’s something else I need to…t-tell you.”

She was fidgeting with her hands. A sure sign of her distress.

“William, you and I--that is--here we are cousins. And here you are considered to be my guardian. But secretly…” her eyes met his and her lips trembled. “We are lovers,” she whispered.

He heard himself gasp. He gaped at her a moment, his head hurting like the devil, trying to process what she had told him.

“L-lovers? As in—?”

“As in any definition you care to apply to it. We are intimate, William. Very intimate.”

“Are you saying we have--made love?” He could hardly form the words in her presence.

He watched, stunned, as Victoria’s features rearranged themselves, became seductive and womanly in a way that set his blood racing, even in his foggy and pained state. Her eyes were hooded, her lashes fanning her cheeks coquettishly.

He gasped again. His girl Queen was no longer a virgin!

And if this account was to be believed, he himself was the cause!

“Yes. We have. Repeatedly,” she whispered in his ear.

“I did this? I--deflowered you?”

“Yes!” She laughed. “Oh dear, have I shocked you? Perhaps I should have told you later.”

“Yes. No.” He blinked several times, as if somehow that would clear his mind. “I must be dreaming.”

She laughed again. “Well I hope it is a good dream.”

He gazed at her with something like wonder. “You accepted me? That is you…wanted…”

“You?"  She laughed lightly. "Yes. I love you, William, my darling Lord M.  Every moment of every day, I want you more and more. I never get enough of loving you.”

“Oh yes,” he whispered, feasting his eyes on her. “It is a very good dream.”

“Don’t worry My Love,” she said stroking his brow, “you will regain your memories. I am sure of it.”

“Perhaps I could beg your indulgence, Ma’am, for another kiss? Perhaps that will hasten the process.”

She smiled and laughed a little. “Only if you stop calling me _Ma’am_. You mustn’t say that in front of anyone. Nor can you call me Victoria unless we are alone. No one here knows me by that name.”

“Why is our story so complicated?”

“You created it.”

“Did I indeed? I am too clever by half sometimes.”

She nuzzled him and kissed him again. And William fell headlong and without reservation into the pleasure of her touch.

* * *

Victoria covered her lover in kisses and caresses until his beautiful green eyes were glazed with lust and something like wonder and he fell asleep, still smiling at her. She was at one time alarmed and yet tremendously relieved. He was back! For some time she had thought she’d lost him. She’d been gripped by fear and dread and agony so acute she could not bear it. But he was here, here and safe. She stroked his hair, caressed his brow, drinking in his smile and nuzzling his face and kissing him the more. She could not touch him enough. Kiss him enough. Wanting only to curl up in his arms and press herself against him and know that he was safe.

What a torture she had been through! Waiting, terrified to see if he would awaken, or if she would find him gone from her forever. 

No.  Not forever.  She could not have borne such.  She surely would have followed him.  Without William, she could not bear to draw breath.  Nothing had made that more clear to her than the last few hours.  She smoothed the hair from his brow with the back of her hand. 

Upon their arrival back in William’s room, the doctor had dressed his wound with honey and a bandage to stop the bleeding, and told her he would recover or not. So she had remained, keeping vigil over him for more hours than she could count, worrying and praying. But finally…he had awaken and so all was well. 

So great was her relief at his recovery that she was able to shove aside her worries over his loss of memory until he had been petted and soothed and fed and tended to until he dozed. And only then, as she sat on his bedside and admired the twin fans of his thick, dark lashes laid sweetly against his cheeks, did she allow herself to contemplate the ramifications of his injury.

_What if his memories did not return?_

The contemplation was more than disconcerting. That he could not remember the way they had been…all the things they had shared together! The first time he had ever made love to her…her first time…

She blinked back the tears. How she wanted him to remember! She brushed her fingers through his hair lightly, enjoying the way the dark, silky curls coiled around her fingers. Even if he did not remember, she reflected, it was clear he still loved her.

Darling man…he had loved her from nearly the beginning. Despite everything, she smiled at the memory of his expressive eyes lighting on her, soft and so full of love, his lips beneath hers, surprised at first to find her kissing him, then moving with hers, finally capitulating to the passion they shared between them. How sweetly he had gazed at her afterward—as if she were a visiting angel he couldn’t be entirely sure was real.

“I am so in love with you, you know,” he had whispered to her as she had placed a cool rag against his head, his eyes still on her face. “It is a grievous thing, but I cannot help myself.”

“I am very glad to hear it, as I return your feelings a hundredfold.” She had smiled.

He huffed a laugh. “My God, Ma'am.  Were this infernal room not spinning about me like a child’s top, I would have long since demonstrated the depth of my passion for you, for you have come into my bedchamber quite alone, and behaved most scandalously.”

“Get well, my darling, and I’ll behave far more scandalously.”

He had chuckled. “Well. I daresay with that promise to motivate me I should be well in a matter of hours.  I shall hold you to that promise, you know.”

"See that you do, my darling Lord M.  For there is much I wish to hold you to."

He groaned.  "Dear God, what a vixen you've become!  Come here and let me do it now."  
  
"You are in no condition for such, unfortunately, My Love. Or I would."  She kissed him again.  "Rest now.  Get well and come back to me."

She smiled to herself and stroked his hair softly as he slept. As long as the love between them remained, she told herself, they could weather the rest. At least, personally.

The other ramifications of his lack of memory however, were not so easy to dismiss.

He had no memory of coming back in time.

If his memories did not return--if he were to slip, or not accept the fact that they were in Elizabeth’s England--what would it mean for them both?

No. He must remember. Their carefully constructed house of cards depended on it. Their very lives.

Her fingers grazed the raised lump on his temple where the tennis ball had struck him. She was grateful it has not been his eye, which would have been worse. The worse of the swelling was starting to subside, leaving an angry looking purple bruise. To say nothing of the cut to his head where he had struck the hard floor of the court, still in its bandage. Her poor, poor darling. But it could have been so much worse.

Robert Dudley’s role she could not begin to contemplate. At least without seething. She was sure he had done it deliberately! And if that was the case…

Was he really trying to kill William? Or merely punish him?

Fear, dark and sinister, coiled itself in her belly.   If Robert Dudley wanted William dead bad enough...

No.  She pushed it from her mind.  William was going to recover, and all would be well.  Neither of them would take any further chances.  As soon as he was well, they must get out of here.  No matter what.

* * *

_William awoke and looked around him. He was lying in a field beside the Broadwater near Brocket Hall. He sat upright and blinked. Yes, there was the house, just over the bridge. But what century was this? He looked down at his clothes. Fawn breeches, a blue waistcoat and white shirtsleeves, a white cravat. A puddle of dark blue broadcloth topped with his favorite top hat lay nearby. His own, then. Was he back home?_

_“Daddy! Daddy!”_

_He looked around, startled. Two children came hurtling out of the trees in his direction. He looked around himself. But he saw no other person._

_Before he could respond the boy had reached him, launching himself like a cannonball straight at William._

_“Daddy!” he said, wrapping his little arms around William._

_William, too stunned to do anything but react, laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder as the girl landed with a giggle on his other side._

_“Daddy! We found you at last!” She said._

_He opened his mouth to speak. But nothing came out. He put his hands on the children, petting their hair and shoulders as a father would do. They were so small and fragile beneath his hands, their faces suffused with joy and love as they looked upon him. He was so overcome he was close to weeping._

_Was he dead? Could this little girl be his own daughter, as she would have been?_

_But the boy looked nothing like Augustus. Save for his head of dark brown curls._

_The girl’s hair was lighter and straighter, and she raised her eyes to his and he gasped to see two very blue eyes, the color of a summer sky. Eyes very like a pair he knew very well._

_“Naughty Daddy, running off!” The girl giggled, and settled herself closer to him with a sigh of contentment. “But we found you!”_

_“But you weren’t hiding very well, were you?” The boy looked up quizzically, and William gasped to see his own eyes looking back at him._

_“No,” he managed. “Apparently not.” He cleared his throat. “Where…where is your mother?”_

_“Waiting for you,” he answered, detaching himself and tugging on William’s hand with his small, determined one. “Come along. We mustn’t keep her waiting.”_

_“Yes, come along Daddy! Mummy needs you!” The little girl placed her soft little hand in his other and both children tugged together, urging him to his feet._

_“Where is Mummy?”_

_“Not far,” the boy said, letting go of his hand and running ahead. “Come on, Daddy!”_

_“No! Wait! Don’t run off!” His hand yearned to feel his son’s small hand in it again._

_“Come on, Daddy! Don’t be slow! Come and catch me!” the little girl laughed, releasing his hand also and following after her brother, leaving him feeling cold and bereft._

_“No! Please! Come back!” William felt his heart might break for the loss of them._

_“Mummy’s waiting!” The girl called._

_“Yes come along!” The boy agreed._

_There was mist gathering in the trees. Their giggles and cries floating back towards him as if carried on the wind, but he could no longer see either child. A lump formed in his throat. He was losing them!_

_He couldn’t bear to lose sight of them now. Not now! When he’d searched for them all his life…._

* * *

Victoria jolted upright in her chair, looking around herself wildly. William was awake, and sitting bolt upright in the bed, staring at the wall as if he’d seen a ghost.

“William, I am here…” she said, sitting on the side of the bed, taking his hand in hers.

The contact startled him, and her heart stopped as she thought he might pull away. He blinked several times and turned to see her.

“Victoria? Wh—have I been asleep?”

“Yes,” she said, fighting tears. She must be strong. No matter what. He needed her. He deserved her strength. “You have my love.”

He took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his other hand. “God, how long have I been here?” He asked, gazing at his hand, and then rubbing his jaw again. “I need a shave.”

“Since this morning. Oh William!” Victoria exclaimed, running her own hands over his prickly jaw with delight. “I am so happy you are awake again!”

“Since this morning? Wha—I have been asleep for the entire day?”

“Not entirely. What is the last thing you remember?”

He blinked heavily again, shook himself a little, eyes soft as they landed on her. She watched as the question blossomed in his green gaze.

“Tennis,” he said suddenly, looking at her sharply. “I was playing tennis with Sir Robert Dudley. Or was that a dream as well?”

“No,” she said with a whimper. “That was no dream, My Love. Oh William! You remember!” She kissed his hand with relief.

“What happened? I was playing tennis. And then I was…here. I don’t remember anything else.”

“You were struck on the side of the head with a tennis ball. You--you fell and struck your head on the court. The blow rendered you unconscious. They carried you back here.”

“Not a hangover then. I wondered why my head ached so appallingly.”

“Does it hurt much, My Love?”

“Don’t…touch it…yes,” he said, wincing away from her fingers. “It hurts like the devil. A serve?”

“No.” Her eyes met his.

“That bastard Dudley! Was it deliberate?”

“I…think so.”

“Victoria, listen to me. If he wants me dead there can be only one reason.”

“Two reasons.”

He sighed. “Yes, very probably. Bloody _bollocking_ hell!”

“I’m so glad you’re alright, William! Oh God, I was so scared! First that I’d lost you, and then…you woke once, but you didn’t remember anything about being here and--oh, I was so worried for you!”

“Oh my darling girl, I am sorry to have caused you such worry. What you must have suffered.” His gaze was so tender she wanted to weep. “Come here to me, My Love.”

“Say nothing of what I have suffered! You are the one who has suffered!” She was weeping now. So typical of him to suffer so egregiously and then be worried for her distress instead. She crawled into his lap, into his outstretched arms and lay her head against his chest with a snuffle. “Oh my darling!”

“My brave girl,” he said, stroking her hair. “Have you been here all this time?”

“Of course I have. They—she—wanted to take you to her own chambers. But I would not allow it.”

“She wanted—but you would not—” he trailed off. “And she relented.”

“She did. I begged her. She was kind enough to grant my request. Perhaps I have been wrong about her all this time?”

He stroked her hair thoughtfully. “No. You have not been wrong, My Love. Not at all. Oh Victoria, we must find a way out of this place. It is no longer safe for you here.” He whispered against her hair.

“Nor you. Oh God, William, please be careful! I can’t bear to lose you.”

“Nor I you.” He kissed the top of her head and she snuggled closer. “Nor I you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We know, of course, that William has had a concussion as a result of his injuries. This accounts for the temporary loss of his memory, and its eventual return. He has been most fortunate indeed. History records the death of 2 different kings as the result of being smacked with a tennis ball. 
> 
> As always your comments are loved and appreciated! :)


	31. Chapter 31--She Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While William recovers, the Queen calls Victoria before her, and she is not pleased....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “…Silent, slick and stealthy  
> Slinking through your evil nights  
> You can see in the dark they tell me  
> The daylight burns your eyes  
> I know you're trying to track me down now  
> You're right on my trail  
> Your think you're going for the big, big game  
> But you're just chasing your own tail…”  
> (”The Wolf”, Heart, 1985).

Chapter 31—She Wolf

William stayed sequestered for several more days. He was dizzy, and he still had a lot of pain, but he was recovering. Victoria stayed with him, refusing to let anyone else nurse him. She did allow others to assist her with jobs she couldn’t manage unaided. But she shooed them away as quickly as possible.

Every day, the Queen sent messengers to inquire after William’s health and to relay her sense of loss every hour he was not at her side. Until finally the Queen summoned Victoria to appear before her.

“Viscountess!” The Queen held out her hand with an acid smile, and Victoria approached her throne and kissed her knuckles in deference, fully recognizing the Queen’s displeasure with her. “We are pleased to see at least you, at last. Please, we beg of you to enlighten us at once as to the condition of your cousin. Does he recover? Will he soon be back on his feet again?”

“Your Majesty does us great honor to so inquire, and to be so concerned for our welfare. My cousin recovers slowly, Your Majesty. His head pains him greatly, and he still has dizzy spells when walking that leave him quite overcome. His stamina is low and he sleeps a great deal. I am hopeful he will recover soon.”

“And therefore he is still too unwell to receive visitors, or to stir forth.”

“Just as you say, Your Majesty. Visiting even with me tires him greatly. He prefers to be left alone.”

“Even from you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Victoria bowed her head and gazed at the floor in what she hoped was a show of humility. She could feel the Queen’s displeasure rolling off of her in hostile waves. She recognized it for what it was—jealousy. If Elizabeth had only insisted he be brought to her private chambers it would have been she, not Victoria, who had him all to herself while he recovered. She was regretting her benevolence. And Victoria very much feared they would both pay the price of it very soon.

“Yet you tend him _most_ faithfully.” She said it with a venom that made Victoria blink.

“He is family, Your Majesty.”

“Yes. He is. ‘All you have left in the world,’ we believe?”

“He is, Your Majesty.”

“You both appear very--devoted--to one another.”

“We are. Does this displease you, Your Majesty?”

“How could we possibly be displeased by a show of loyalty and affection toward one’s own family? It is…refreshing. And _curious_.”

“Curious?” She swallowed hard.

“Yes. Very curious. But then…we ourself have not had the benefit of deep family ties. Perhaps it has left us--jaded--about such matters.”

“I could not say, Your Majesty.”

“Well. We certainly understand devotion to one such as Our Lamb. He has many qualities about him which…inspire women to care deeply for him. Would you not agree?”

Victoria could feel the hair prickle along her neck. She did not need that feeling to tell her the danger she was in.

“Again, I could not say, Your Majesty.”

“He is very handsome, is he not?”

“He is my cousin, Your Majesty.”

“Yes. But a somewhat distant one, we understand.”

“I believe so, Your Majesty.”

“We have seldom seen such a handsome man before. Indeed, we can scarcely believe such stunning male beauty exists anywhere this side of heaven, let alone in our own realm.”

“As you say, Your Majesty,” Victoria said.

Elizabeth laughed brightly. “Such a politic response! Oh come now, Viscountess. We are both women after all. You will not make us believe you are blind.”

“My cousin’s kindness, and goodness of heart, are his finest traits, I believe, Your Majesty. They are more than enough to blind one to anything else.”

“Ah yes. But of course they are. Well. We are delighted to hear he is recovering, and will be back at our side soon. Where he _belongs_.”

Victoria kept her eyes trained on the floor and bit down on her tongue, hard, to keep herself from rising to the bait. There was no question now. The Queen knew. And she meant to do something about it.

“Viscountess. We also wish to speak with you upon another matter. One which touches you more--directly.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Victoria’s heart was hammering in her chest. The Queen put a cold white hand under her chin and raised her face.

Gold, predatory eyes met hers. Narrowed. Calculating.

“It is time you married again.”

Victoria sucked in a breath. So. Here it was. At last.

“I…but…”

“Your Cousin has spoken of your deep grief. Your loss of your first husband was a shock to you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You loved him?”

“I did. Deeply loved him, Your Majesty.”

“Yes. Such a tragedy to happen to one—and so young too. We are sympathetic to your plight, Viscountess. Truly we are. However the time has come, we feel, for you to make a new start in life. It is not healthy to nurse such a grief forever. For a woman, each passing day brings age to her features. Lose yourself in grief too long, and your best hope for a bright new future fades. A husband, and children, would comfort you. A home of your own. Security. Surely these things must be more desirable than the _uncertainty_ of the present?”

“I—I…” Victoria was at a loss for words. She could hardly draw breath. What was Elizabeth building up to?

“There now,” Elizabeth was suddenly all conciliatory benevolence. She gave Victoria what was surely a much practiced look of concern, and patted her hand affectionately. “My dear, you look positively pale! Is the idea of marriage to an eligible man so distressing?”

“Yes,” Victoria heard herself say. “I know it must be done, and yet…I cannot bear the thought of it!”

“But you have been married before. You understand it’s--expectations. And it’s _privileges_ all too well. Surely this cannot be so shocking a prospect?”

“It is when the man is a stranger, Your Majesty.”

“Ah. So you knew your husband well before you married?”

“Yes. Quite well.”

“I see. So what is needed is a courtship, surely?”

“A courtship whereby I have no _choice_ is not courtship, Your Majesty.”

“But of course it is! The man in question would be paying you a great compliment to take such pains to win you over. When by right, as your professed bridegroom, he has no such obligation. His willingness to do so then bespeaks of a great affection, which you must needs find comforting. Such a man would be kind to you, would care for you sweetly. In truth, what could a woman possibly desire more than such a man?”

“Her _own_ _choice_ in the matter, Your Majesty.”

The Queen laughed. “We declare, we believe we see before us the Wife of Bath! It is only after marriage that one can affect such power. But there. That is enough discussion for today. Only, do not put the idea out of mind entirely. For in truth, we mean kindly to prepare you. You must wed again. And soon. It is best to acclimate yourself to this—reality--as best you can. Place your trust in us. We take a high interest in you, Viscountess. We have only your best interest at heart, and will choose most _carefully_ for you. So you see? You have nothing whatsoever to worry about! You may return to your _cousin_ now. Please remember us to him, and assure him that we pine for his recovery, and that we have a special--surprise--awaiting him when he is again himself.”

Victoria left the Queen feeling shaken. Dread, deeper than anything she had ever felt before, threatened to swallow her.

* * *

William heard the door close softly. Before she even appeared in his room, he knew something was wrong. But one glance at her face told him it was serious.

He could have guessed as much, he thought with a sigh. The Queen was not happy at his continued need for recovery time apart from her. Apparently, she’d visited that frustration on Victoria.

She came and slumped into the chair near his bedside, looking spent and weary. “The Queen has bade me remember her to you,” she said in a small voice. “That she pines for your recovery.”

William sighed. “Indeed. I had hoped Dudley would have wormed his way back into her affections during my long absence. Did you remind her how frail and weak and feeble I am?” He gave her a smile.

Victoria did not return it.

“She will not be dissuaded from you, William. The harder you try, the stronger she fixes her mind on you. Perhaps you should just fall into her arms and get it over with. For I believe she means to have you, one way or another.”

“What did she say to you?” He watched her struggle with her emotions with growing alarm, chased with a fury at his own helplessness.

“She has reminded me that she wishes me to be wed. Soon. That she will pick the person. She was clearly displeased, and asked me questions about us. I believe…she knows about us, William. She means to have me out of the way. She will not suffer my competition for your affections any longer.”

William swore. Profusely. “Tell me everything.”

Victoria did, and he swore some more.

“A ‘special surprise’?” He snorted derisively. “Unless it’s Dudley’s head mounted over the Traitor’s Gate I’m not inclined to be interested.”

“I rather doubt it will be Dudley’s head she means to present you. Perhaps her own maidenhead would be more in keeping with her thoughts.”

“Victoria, she will not try to seduce me. Well. No more than she already has. And I’ve told you I will not so much as kiss her again.” He smiled a little. His little love was pacing the floor with agitation. It grieved him to see her so, but at the same time, he was moved by the depth of her feeling for him. “You do know, do you not, that I am hopelessly yours, and always shall be? Not fifty Elizabeths could pry me from your side.”

“And if she marries me off, what then?”

“I shall love you still. And no other.”

“And I you. But we will never be together again, William. Do you not see? Oh, I cannot bear it! We must _do_ something!” She stomped her little foot emphatically. “What in heaven’s name are we to do?”

“Recover from the blow your lover dealt me on the tennis court,” he said blithely.

“He is NOT my lover! I do wish you would not tease me so about it!” Her blue eyes flashed with fury. “Lord M, how can you be so _calm_ about this?”

He smiled at her use of his old nickname. “As I have told you repeatedly, Ma’am, on a number of frustrating occasions. When in doubt, always delay. While I am here recovering, she can take no action. She knows this. You outflanked her most handily at the tennis match, when you insisted before the entire court that I had to be handed over to you for your personal care. She could hardly refute your claim without causing so much gossip that even she herself might be compromised by it. Therefore she conceded to you, and has been stewing about it ever since. So long as I languish here, she cannot whisk me away to extort kisses from me in her bedchamber, and she cannot marry you off to the highest bidder when I clearly need you so much. So here, for a time, we have a blissful stalemate. Which buys us time to think. And plan.”

“And if she should someday decide you need a nursemaid to relieve me of my _burdens_ as your cousin, what then? What if she herself should come here?”

“She will not.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“For the same reason your own mother cautioned you not to visit me at Dover House. It would be highly scandalous.”

“I came to visit you anyway.”

“So you did. I’ve never been more embarrassed.”

“You were most agreeably rattled.” She said, a small smile breaking through the clouds of her countenance.

“And you were the most adorable creature that had ever before walked through that door, and ever since. And I am repeatedly haunted by the experience.”

“I had never before seen you without your cravat.”

“Of course not. I always tried to look my best for you.”

“Or your frock coat.”

“It was a very warm day.”

“And your waistcoat undone.”

“As I have remarked to you before, you have a keen eye for detail, Ma’am.”

“Oh yes. Where you are concerned, my darling, I most definitely do.”

“If you keep looking at me like that, I will begin to think you liked seeing me in such disarray.”

“I did. Thoroughly.” Her eyes lowered coquettishly and his breath caught. “And now that I am a little more well versed in such things, I noticed one or two other things were out of place as well.”

He felt his cheeks burn and his body stir. One thing about this particular injury—it had done nothing past the first night or two to stem his desire for her. Or his ability to act on such desires. Thank God.

“Did you indeed,” he said leaning back against the headboard.

“Did I notice what I think I noticed, My Darling Lord M, on that day? I have long meant to ask you.”

He gazed at her, his breath coming short as she approached him on the bed.

“Yes, I’m afraid you did,” he whispered as her hand landed on his shoulder and she straddled his lap. “That _was_ a stack of dispatches that you saw at my feet. I had been most negligent in their preparation. For they should have appeared before you the previous day.”

“Dispatches?” She said, raising an eyebrow.

“Mm…” he returned as she wrapped her hands around his neck, nuzzling him with her adorable little nose. “And I am very much afraid my old dressing gown might have been tossed against the back of the settee. You probably noticed that as well.”

“You are a merciless tease,” she whispered, her lips claiming his.

“Mmm, am I? I didn’t realize you found the dispatches so exciting, Ma’am.”

“You know of what I speak,” she whispered in his ear.

“My dressing gown then,” he couldn’t resist. It was too delicious.

She finally laughed. “That was not what I meant and you know it!” She slapped his shoulder playfully.

“What did you mean then?” He purred, sitting upright and pulling her more firmly against himself.

She giggled, sliding backwards, reaching between them both and grasping him in her little hand. He gasped despite himself, his body filling with delicious heat, as she stroked him. He felt it jerk in her grasp.

“Careful, you might make me think you like me.”

“I do. I like you very much,” his hands circled around her, beneath her skirts to cup her bottom and pull her closer. Her legs wrapped around his middle and he groaned. “I wanted you so much that day at Dover House, you know. Wanted to pull you onto my lap, on my favorite chair, pull you tight against me, just like this. Wanted to plunge myself deep inside of you…wanted to watch you to ride me and ride me, wanted to see your eyes as I brought you to pleasure for the first time ever. Wanted to forget who we were--to be just us. A man and a woman who love each other to distraction, who’s union is as inevitable as the tide. I have no doubt there was visible evidence of the matter. I had nothing to hand with which to mask it with and I could hardly think clearly enough to answer your concerns. How you tested me sometimes.”

“I would have willingly slid onto your lap then as now, William,” she said, nuzzling him, sliding her lips down his neck, planting kisses all the way to his collarbone.

“Victoria…darling I haven’t shaved…”

“Have we not just been speaking about how I like you in disarray?”

“But will my beard not rasp your delicate skin?” He said, touching her lips with his fingers.

“I like that too.”

He kissed her softly, making her groan. “Well then. So long as you are fully ready to accept the dangers…”

* * *

“William?” She asked later, drowsing against his chest as he combed his fingers through her hair.

“Mmm?”

“What are we going to do? Honestly?”

“What we must to survive Victoria. Do not trouble yourself. When the time comes, we will take whatever action is needed. I will not allow Elizabeth, Dudley, or anyone else to come between us. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing but death will separate us, my love. And even then, it will have its work cut out to do so. For I will not leave your side willingly. Not now, or ever.”

“I know it, My Darling. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you hear that, Dear Reader? The distant rumbling of thunder? Yes, oh yes, there is a storm gathering....
> 
> As always, your comments and thoughts are much appreciated!


	32. Chapter 32--Gimmie Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and William have a spot of peace together as he continues to recover. But when Elizabeth decides it is time for the recovery to end, will they be more or less able to stand against the forces that threaten to separate them forever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Ooh, a storm is threat'ning  
> My very life today  
> If I don't get some shelter  
> Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away…
> 
> War, children, it's just a shot away  
> It's just a shot away…
> 
> The flood is threat'ning  
> My very life today  
> Gimme, gimme shelter  
> Or I'm gonna fade away.
> 
> Love, sister, it's just a kiss away  
> It's just a kiss away…”
> 
> (”Gimmie Shelter”, The Rolling Stones, 1969).
> 
> “…Give me truth now  
> Don't want no sham  
> I'd be hung drawn and quartered  
> For a sheep just as well as a lamb.
> 
> Stuck between a rock  
> And a hard place…  
> You'd better stop--  
> Put on a kind face  
> Can't you see what you've done to me!”  
> (”Rock and a Hard Place”, The Rolling Stones, 1989).

Chapter 32—Gimmie Shelter

Victoria and William made good use of their stalemate.

For the first time since they’d come to Whitehall, they actually were left alone to spend some time together. Without William being summoned to the Queen, and Victoria being more or less on leave from her levee duties to tend him, they spent every precious day in a bliss that had been unparalleled in either century. Not only were they relieved of their duties here—and for a time of their financial worries as well--but being removed from their own time and the expectations there, they had finally achieved, at least for a time, the glorious state of being entirely free.

They spent the whole of their time together.

William, truly, was still in recovery. But slowly he was returning to normal. He was out of bed and at least convalescing in their shared rooms within a day or two of the Queen’s summons. And he and Victoria spent their time cuddling, reminiscing, and planning for a future they both had little hope for, but dreamed of nonetheless. Along with playing at chess and cards, and drinking the odd bottle of wine when they could get it, William resumed his old familiar habit of telling Victoria tall tales, making her laugh at the foolery of both himself and various other people they were both well acquainted with. It was like old times, only better as far as Victoria was concerned.

For now that they were lovers, and quite comfortably alone, she could indulge herself by listening to him whilst cuddled up in his lap and stroking his chest lazily, or with his head pillowed in her own lap when he grew tired, whereupon she would amuse herself by twirling his curls around her fingers, or pulling them out straight and watching them spring back to his head again as he talked or slept. And every now and again, their touches and caresses would lead to more determined explorations of a positively delicious nature.

Oh, she liked this way of being very much indeed. And for a time, she at least could allow herself to forget the cloud of doom hanging over their heads, and pretend that they were married, and this was simply the way life would always be. The two of them together, enjoying each other in every possible way. With nobody and no one who would ever have a say about the matter ever again.

Why, oh why could they not be allowed to have this life together? Why did the whole world seem to conspire against them, when it left other couples quite alone to be happy?

And thus her emotions ran, from one extreme to another. From peaceful bliss to fear, to anger, and then finally coalescing into a ravenous passion which she poured out upon her lover and he returned in kind.

They simply could not get enough of one another. And Victoria knew with each passing moment, they were being pressed by a hidden hand to a crisis of some kind, whereby they would either take matters into their own hands or be separated forever. And this time—this perfect, beautiful time—would be at an end.

Gradually and by degrees, William improved. The dizzy spells and the great crushing headaches were finally over, and all external appearances of his injuries were fading away. And as these things receded, he began to recover his stamina. And their amorous activities once again became more athletic and of longer duration than they had been since before the accident.

And not before time. Inevitably, the Queen grew more and more restless for William’s return. She sent daily messengers—sometimes as many as three in one day—to ascertain William’s progress. Once they were no longer able to conceal his recovery from these harbingers of doom, they knew their idyll must needs be at an end.

Sure enough, within another week, such a message arrived. Victoria and William had been all but ordered to appear at the evening meal. Their time had run out.

When the time came for them to ready themselves for the evening meal, she thought she would choke on her fear.

“Courage, My Darling,” he said, cupping her cheek and smiling his sad smile into her eyes.

“Why must it be so always with us? All I want is to love you. Why is that so wrong?”

“I know,” he took her into his arms. “I know. It does not seem so much to ask of life, does it? Just the love of one particular person.”

“Whom I cannot live without,” she sobbed. “For I cannot William. You are part of me. I feel torn in two when you are away even for a short time. How could I bear it if—”

He kissed her. Hard and deep.

“You shall not have to,” he whispered. “Do you hear me? I will not permit it.”

He kissed her again, and she gave herself over to the pleasure of his touch.

* * *

“Our Lamb!” Elizabeth chortled, clapping her white, white hands and standing as they entered the great hall. “You have returned to our side! At last!”

She swept down from the dais, not even sparing Victoria a glance as she looped her arm through William’s and drew him away with her. “How we have missed you! And we are so glad to see you have recovered yourself at last! Why…you look to be in the most robust of health! We are gratified, and grateful.”

And with that, the convalescence was over.

Victoria felt her heart hit her toes as she watched the Queen draw her love away from her side.

Again.

She expected it now and yet…every time, it still pained her heart no end.  And after the intimacy of the last few weeks, having grown accustomed to his continual presence, she felt it even more keenly. 

“Viscountess?”

Her eyes closed in silent fury. _Why? Why must he always be there?_

“Sir Robert. What do you want from me?”

“A word? Surely that cannot be too painful for you?” Robert Dudley appeared at her shoulder. “A private word?”

She turned on her heel to face him.

The rogue was dressed elegantly this evening in black and burgundy. It complimented his dark looks, rather too well. But whatever pains he may have taken with his appearance for her sake were entirely wasted. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze. Quite hard.

“Ooh. But I see that perhaps my request is an imposition after all.” He bowed to her in deference, his dark eyes fixed and calculating on hers. “I sense you are very angry with me, Lady.”

“How extraordinarily perceptive of you.” She said, crossing her arms before her.

He nodded, accepting this. “Still. Might I beg your indulgence just this once? There is a terrace. Just beyond that door. A place which is largely unoccupied. It would give us privacy enough to…have a much needed talk, I believe.”

 _Yes,_ she thought as she regarded him through narrowed eyes. She would like that very much. Sir Robert Dudley was well overdue for a piece of her mind. Whatever he intended to get from her this night, she thought as he led her away, he would be sorely disappointed.

“Well?” She said, once they had reached their objective, crossing her arms and giving him her most regally disdainful look. “I am waiting, Sir Robert.”

“I can see you are even more discontented with me than usual.”

“Really.” She would hear him out, then give him a berating that had been brewing within her for the last several weeks. “How very astute of you.”

“It seems always to be the same story. Every time I see you, I end up begging your forgiveness for my latest sins. This time is no different, I fear. I only wanted to express to you that I am heartily sorry for what happened on the tennis court. I am thrilled and relieved to see your cousin restored to good health.”

“Are you. Indeed.” Her eyes narrowed. She knew what she had seen. He had intended to hit William with the ball. Had aimed to do so. Nothing he could possibly say could alter that. “Well. That he is so is most assuredly no thanks to you.”

“You believe me to be the most reprehensible of monsters, I see. You really think I meant to hurt the man who’s favor I need to win, in order to win you? What insanity is that?”

“I know not. Pray. Enlighten me.”

“You do believe it. You believe me capable of…” He broke off, blinking at her in astonishment.

“Yes. I do believe it. I believe you capable of just about anything…save any kind of real feeling such as those you are so wont to express. How dare you even speak to me of such things! Hear me. And hear me well. I never want to see you again. Never want to hear your voice. And I will never— _ever_ —marry you. Do you understand me, Sir Robert?”

“Perfectly,” he said flatly, dark eyes flashing. “You refuse even to _hear_ me! Even to entertain the idea that you might be _wrong_!”

“I _know_ what I saw! You meant to hurt him! You aimed straight _for_ him!”

“I did, yes! Because that is the _game_! One aims for one’s opponent, and it is up to the _opponent_ to counter the ball with his racket!”

“Not when the ball is hurtling at his head with the speed of cannon fire! And just as hard!”

“I thought he had it!”

“You thought nothing of the kind! You thought only to harm him! Do not _insult_ me with your _lies_!” She choked on a sob, remembering how close he came to achieving his aim. “How can you express to care for me, and _deliberately_ harm the one person in this world I truly care for? Do you mean to rob me of _everything_ that gives me comfort? Of every _possible_ happiness? Is that how you show _love_ , Sir Robert? Well, you set out to rob _yourself_ in doing so. Because had he died that day I would have _followed_ him! One way or the other!” She meant to move past him but he caught her arm. “ _Release_ me at once!”

“Alexandrina…”

“You will _not_ utter my name!”

“Viscountess…he is not the only man in the world!”

“But he is the only man still living that I love!”

“He is your _cousin_!”

“May one cousin not love the other? He is kind and good and generous and…everything that you are _not_!”

“You do not _know_ this, because you have never allowed yourself to know me _well_ enough to give me the chance! You make the most egregious accusations against me…refusing even to hear the facts! Strewth, woman! All I ask for is a chance! And for you to entertain the possibility—however slight—that you might be wrong about me. Please! I will show you…I can be all of those things to you. And a husband forbye! I will make it all up to you. I will give you jewels…I will cloak you in riches…”

“You really think I care for such _trifles_?”

“Children! I can give you that. And a home. A secure home. A quiet home. You will want for nothing and no one will bother you!”

She shook her head.

“What then? What can I do? What can I say? What can I give you that will make up for all my shortcomings, if not all these things? What can I possibly offer that will help you see my better qualities? Believe it or not, I do have them.”

“There is nothing I want from you. _Nothing_ you can give me will induce me to accept you!”

“Viscountess…I am in earnest. Lady…you have misunderstood me. You have attributed things to me that I am innocent of! Will you not at least give me a chance to prove my innocence to you once and for all?”

“How? How will you prove to me that I did not see what I saw in your eyes as you slammed that ball straight into William’s head? Dear God, do you know how close he came to death? To permanent harm? How long I spent in an agony of apprehension—an eternity of fear! And _you_ were the _cause_! Nothing… _nothing_ you can say can cancel such intent! If you truly care for me at all, I beg you to please let me be!”

“Alone? With your misery? Night after night, day after interminable day, while the Queen fawns over your cousin before your very eyes?  Keeps him ever by her side? She will never let him go now, don’t you understand that? And she will marry you off at the soonest opportunity simply to be _rid_ of you! She will suffer no competition for his affections!”

“Leave. Me. Be!”

“I cannot! For you see…I care for you. For your well-being. For your happiness. And it pains me deeply to watch you suffer while he is torn from you. For the love of God, I did _not_ try to murder him! I _swear_ this to you! Viscountess…I am in earnest. I can assist you. I can save and protect you. I want you. More than I have ever wanted any woman, save one. Since we have met I have thought of nothing else. No one else. Your beauty…your fire…God in heaven! I cannot _sleep_ because every time I close my eyes I see you! I feel you, in the dance. I feel your sweet lips pressed against mine. The taste of you, I cannot forget. It drives me to madness, wanting, _craving_ more! You are under my skin, My Lady. I cannot walk away. My heart forbids it.”

“Then your heart is as selfish as you are. For I want nothing more to do with you. True love would stand aside!”

“True love would _fight_ for its right to survive, even against its object! And I am doing so. Marry me, Lady. Allow me to offer you my protection. Bess sees you as a rival. She will marry you away to a man far worse than I, simply for revenge! Yours will be a most unhappy fate. But with me…it can be different. I can save you from her.  If you will but allow me to do so.  I adore you. Enough to be patient…to allow you time to grow in affection toward me. For I believe you like me. Even now, when you are so angry, I believe you still like me. Even if the doing so pains you.”

“That was before you tried to kill the man I most love in the world!”

“I didn’t try to kill him! I misjudged the shot, that is all! It was a terrible accident! An error!”

“It was not and you know it! I saw the murderous intent in your eyes!”

“All the way down in the service area? I was standing well back in the receiving area! How could you claim to see ‘murder’ in my eyes from so great a distance!”

“Do not _patronize_ me!”

“I do not! I merely defend myself and my honor! What you saw was competition and--intensity of play in my eyes, quickly replaced by horror at the outcome, which you no doubt missed in all the aftermath! That is _all_. I _swear_ it to you!” He fell down before her and took her hands before she could withdraw them. “On my knees, Lady, I swear it to you! I will take any oath you ask of me. I will perform any task…please…don’t cast me asunder! I have many sins and I will own them all! Make you a detailed account of every one of them. Lay them at your feet beside my heart.  But I cannot and will not included attempted murder among them! Not of a man you so greatly esteem, and who’s favor I so desperately need. Please. Please I implore you. Forgive me. And at least consider my suit?”

“Do you honestly think you have any hope of that now?” She stood coldly, looking down upon him, fallen to his knees before her.  A small part of her had softened slightly toward him, during this speech. There was an unwelcome ring of truth about what he was saying, about his manner and his earnest entreaty. But she was in no humor to give it consideration. Ruthlessly she shoved it aside. Dudley was the enemy. He was to blame. And that was the end of it.

“I pray I do.”

“Save your prayers, Sir Robert. God may have to listen to you. But I certainly don’t.” She pulled her hands away from his and turned on her heel and walked away. For the first time since she’d met him, she did not feel the need to run from Sir Robert Dudley.

* * *

“So! Our Lamb William! You have returned to our side at last!” Elizabeth beamed at him, and he groaned inwardly as he took the place she indicated for him, next to her at dinner. “We have been pining for the loss of your company and council! We thought this time would never pass!”

“I thank you, Your Majesty, for your concern. I am still wont to tire easily, I fear. My age…”

“Oh whisht! Do not tell us about your _great age_ , Lamb. We are not fooled, you know.” She gazed at him from lowered lashes. “You are as robust and virile as any man we have ever known.”

 _Bloody hell._ He swallowed hard, and merely nodded, offering his thanks as he filled her trencher.

“Was it very dreadful? Your injury?” The Queen bit a corner of her red stained lips and raised her slender fingers to caress his temple lightly.

He forced himself to stay still and permit her touch, suppressing the urge to flinch and pull away. He did not want her touch. He did not want her love. He wanted only his Victoria, and he was beginning to tire of the endless games this Queen was forcing him to play.

Still, he was a diplomat, a politician and a gentleman, and too well-schooled to allow his personal feelings to rise to the surface. He arranged his face carefully to mask his impatience and his repugnance, and permitted her touch.

“I have very little memory of the occurrence, Your Majesty. I am told I awoke only once in the course of the day that followed and was out of my wits entirely.”

“Oh! Our poor Lamb! We are aggrieved so at your suffering! We were very cross with Robbie, and very severe with him upon your account. Though he swears to us upon his honor that it was an accident.”

“Undoubtedly, Your Majesty,” he said. He did not voice his very strong suspicions to the opposite effect. But where was Victoria? She and Dudley had disappeared a short while ago. He masked his worry and hopefully his preoccupation by busying himself with his wine glass. Then running out of distraction, he filled it again.

There she was! At last! He sighed involuntarily with relief to see her again appear in the Hall. He could feel the anger rolling off of her from here! Sure enough, striding in behind her came Dudley, looking non-too-pleased at whatever she was saying.

Her adorable face looked like thunder! Dear God, he almost pitied the man! He knew her temper when she was riled. He had to seek refuge in his goblet again to hide his amusement.

What he wouldn’t give to scoop her up right now and…

“Lamb?”

“Mmm?” He almost spewed out his wine in his surprise. _Damnation_ , he’d forgotten Elizabeth was even there! She had been saying something! What had she said? Had she asked him a question? Frantically he searched his memory. But he had been so absorbed in his contemplation of Victoria he had missed it. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty…” he said, fumbling with his words, feeling his cheeks burn. “My injury…still pains me from time to time. Could I beg your indulgence to repeat again for me what you said?”

Elizabeth said nothing, but turned slowly in the direction he had been looking.

And saw.

_Victoria._

Still giving Dudley a piece of her mind in the back of the Hall. Dudley still gesturing wildly, defensively even from this distance.

Slowly, she turned back to him, and he watched as a carefully constructed mask descended over her features.

William took the mental liberty to swear. Profusely.

“Your cousin is…a winning creature.” The Queen said at length. “Even when angry.”

He responded with a lift of his eyebrows and attempted to school his features into a semblance of urbane disinterestedness. “She is,” he said.

“She has already made a splendid conquest,” Elizabeth continued. “Our own Eyes is absolutely besotted with her.”

“Yes, I believe he is.”

“And perhaps he is not the only one.” She turned and looked at him. Pointedly.

William took a large swig of his wine, his heart hammering. “Perhaps not,” he agreed blandly.

“She has told you of our conversation, has she not? We have decided it is time— _past_ time—for her to marry again.”

“She did mention it, Your Majesty.”

William was struck with a profound, and most unwelcome sensation of deja vu. How many times had he sat in a dinner party at Buckingham palace, nursing wine or champagne, gazing at Victoria as she danced, or flirted, with some damnable fop of a princeling or other, whilst someone stood next to him and felt duty-bound to remind him continuously that she must marry another man? He could have laughed out loud with the bitter irony of finding himself here again, in a wholly distant century and hearing the same speech, from a wholly different Queen, no less. But instead of laughing, he poured himself another goblet full of wine and took another ineffectual drink.

“Therefore your duties as guardian are almost complete.”

“Almost,” he agreed. “But not entirely satisfied.”

“Perhaps not. But we think you must also acclimate yourself to the reality that very soon she will be another man’s charge. And you will be free to go your own--separate--ways.”

“True,” he said, drinking again.

“What then, will you do Lamb?”

He raised his eyebrows as if considering a possibility he had resolutely avowed to himself would never take place. “I shall return to my old life, Your Majesty. To my rooms in the town. Spend my life in contemplation of the wisdom of Saint Chrysostom, whom I have neglected most shamefully of late.”

“A very lonely existence, surely?”

“It suits me, Your Majesty. I am a man of very modest needs, after all. It was only on account of the Viscountess that I presumed upon Your Majesty to start with. I never should have otherwise.”

“We are…very happy you came to us, Lamb. We do not wish you gone again.”

“It has been a privilege to serve you, Your Majesty. Truly. But I fear I am…not well suited for a life at court. There is far more activity here than I am accustomed to. And I prefer a quieter life.”

“And if your monarch should require your services further? What then, Lamb?”

He sighed inside. “My loyalty is, and always has been, to my sovereign Queen, Your Majesty.” _My one and only, first and true Queen._ He drank again.

Elizabeth smiled. “Then we think, Lamb, that you should accustom yourself to courtly life. For your Queen has great need of you still, and is greatly loathe to part with you.”

“I suppose in that case, Saint Chrysostom will have to wait,” he said with a sigh. “For Her Majesty’s needs always come first.”

Elizabeth smiled blithely. “We would expect nothing less of Our Lamb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title for this chapter is "A Rock and a Hard Place." I could not decide between them, but in the end, "Gimmie Shelter" won.
> 
> As always, your comments are greatly appreciated!


	33. Chapter 33--All Along the Watchtower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is late. And Lord M is not back yet from his duties as Elizabeth's escort. Victoria's soul-searching is interrupted by the appearance of an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "’There must be some kind of way out of here,’  
> Said the joker to the thief,  
> ‘There's too much confusion,  
> I can't get no relief.  
> Businessman they drink my wine,  
> Plowman dig my earth  
> None will level on the line, nobody offered his word.’
> 
> ‘No reason to get excited,’  
> The thief, he kindly spoke  
> ‘There are many here among us  
> Who feel that life is but a joke  
> But you and I, we've been through that  
> And this is not our fate  
> So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late.’
> 
> All along the watchtower  
> Princes kept the view  
> While all the women came and went  
> Barefoot servants, too
> 
> Outside in the cold distance  
> A wildcat did growl  
> Two riders were approaching  
> And the wind began to howl…”  
> (Jimi Hendrix, 1968).

Chapter 33—All Along the Watchtower

Victoria paced the darkened room, wringing her hands.

Oh, where was William? Where was her beloved Lord M! She needed…oh she needed him! She needed his arms around her. Needed to feel the solid reassurance of his chest against her cheek, to hear his heart beating strong and true and steady beneath her ear as she pressed herself against him. Needed his touch. His great hands on her face. His warm lips pressed against hers, so firm and yet so soft—giving and demanding in equal measure. She needed—oh, she needed to feel him inside of her! Filling her so completely, so perfectly, making her feel so whole and so free. It was a longing that filled her, body and soul. Every part of her yearning, hungering, needing the solace only he could provide.

Only he. Not Sir Robert Dudley. Certainly not ever him.

Dudley could never hope to be one tenth of the man William was! He was too conniving. Too…predatory. Indeed there was something of the panther about Robert Dudley. Circling his prey on padded paws, all graceful sinew and muscle. Elegant. Beautiful.

Deadly.

Dark eyes glittering, anticipating the joy of the hunt—the kill. Confidence infusing every limb, so arrogant in the knowledge of his victory. So sure of himself. And therefore, willing to be patient. Savoring every moment of this deadly dance.

And that was the difference. When she looked into William’s green eyes, even darkened as they were when his desire was at its apex, she saw only life. Her life. Her future. Shining in those shimmering, golden depths there was hope. Life. But when she looked into Dudley’s eyes, she saw only her death. Darkness. Emptiness. Chaos. Confusion. Rage—all gazing back at her in the dark mirrors of his gaze. Her life, all her hopes would be over with such a man.

How could such a thing be so…alluring?

She clenched her hands. How could she even think such things when she had the love of such a man as William? Every moment she spent with Robert Dudley was an offense! An affront! She hated—hated!—the man! He was everything wrong! Everything she should not want!

She picked up a cushion and hurled it across the room. It bounced inconsequentially off the leaded glass bay windows at the far end of the sitting room she shared with William, and landed forlornly and most unsatisfactorily on the floor. She wanted to throw something far more breakable. But this was not her palace after all.

She sank into an obliging chair.

Not her palace. Not her rules. Not her world.

Nothing was as it should be here. Nothing was in her control. It was like Kensington in some ways, all over again. She was kept, and told what to do by others. Fated to sit merely and wait upon the next instruction. Powerless to determine her own destiny. Only this time, she had no hope of it ever ending. Not unless she and William could find a way out of here.  Never before had she felt so trapped.

They must find a way out. She could not abide by this any longer. Everything inside of her rebelled against it. But because she was not queen here, that left her with very little recourse. Hers was the piteous fate of a woman of the lower gentry. Little more than property. Valuable only as far as the wealth and power she brought with her, or, if she was fortunate enough to be beautiful and pleasant she might win a husband purely on her own merit.  And if she were really lucky, he would not beat her, rape her, or torment her into an early grave.  Then it would be children.  The conceiving and bearing of them, the almighty importance of having a son and heir.  And again if she was lucky, she would produce a healthy son, which just might please her husband enough to keep her alive as an honored wife instead of killing or casting her aside.  Provided she survived the birthing process itself.

She shivered.  She had always had a horror of such.  An abhorrence.  Nothing but the greatest love could induce her to be happy about even the idea of childbearing--a love such as she bore William.  For William, it would be worth everything.  But for any other man?  Upon no account!

Not like she'd have a choice, if it came to it.  If she were forced to marry a man here, there would be no escaping it.  

Still.  All things considered, in the context of the age in which he lived, she had to own that Sir Robert’s offer was a good one. A kind and generous one. It was probably the most any woman of this time could ever hope for, and most could only ever fantasize would come her way, even were the man in question not so devilishly handsome.

But Robert Dudley was even that, too.

He had been kind. Even as she raged at him. Provided his story about the tennis court was true, she had done him a great disservice. A very great disservice. One that required apology, though the idea of it stuck in her throat.

It wasn’t that she objected so much to him. Not really. It was that she loved William so much. And she resented everything that Sir Robert represented. Well-meaning, kind and handsome or not, he threatened everything she held dear, and every hope she had of somehow returning to her own time and place. Of becoming once again the Queen she was born to be.

More than that. He threatened the life with William she hoped to build. That she wanted more than she wanted life itself.

No. She could not consider his offer. There was simply no way she could marry him. No matter how fair his offer, or how ardently he expressed his desire for her.  Nor even if she liked him.  There were, for instance, many ways in which William understood and knew her that Robert could never do. The truth about who she was and where she came from being only one of those many things. For all of his cleverness in deducing her relationship with William, there was no way Sir Robert Dudley nor anyone else of this time could possibly ever understand her origins. And if if anyone here had any glimmer of the real truth of them—her own life would be forfeit. Such a claim, after all, could only threaten the rightful Queen of this era, who was forever having to defend herself and her right to rule from all and sundry. The truth of Victoria’s life and rank would threaten Elizabeth too, and bring herself to a very unhappy end—either beheaded as a queen or burned as a witch, whichever part of her story folk chose to believe.

So therefore Sir Robert never could know the truth. And marriage to him would eventually turn up the fact that her story and William’s were fabrications. Which would bring Victoria round again to a very unhappy prospect, and drag Sir Robert into it with her.

No. Marriage to him was impossible. Even without William. But how could she keep it at bay? The more she railed at him, the more determined Sir Robert became in his pursuit. Not even knowing— _knowing_ \--she had a lover made any difference to him.

And meanwhile, every kind thought she spared for Sir Robert, every… _feeling_ he stirred in her, was like a betrayal of the great love she bore her darling William. Every time she encountered him, it was like being torn apart. Deep inside of her, Victoria knew a truth. That some part of her responded to Sir Robert Dudley. The same part of her that had found herself kissing him back rather passionately after her dancing lesson—the part of her that had enjoyed very much the feeling of his full lips against hers, and the press of his hard, male body so close to her own. The part of her that could not be in his presence without remembering the taste of him—and wanting to taste him again. And being now knowledgeable about the ways of men, this same part of her was curious about the rest of him…about what a night in his arms could be…

She shook her head violently and cried out in frustration. Furious with herself. Furious with Sir Robert Dudley. So furious she could strike him, were he but before her! How dare he— _provoke_ her—in such a way!  Oh, how dare she harbor such traitorous feelings?  How could she?  She hated that part of herself--that weakness--so much that if she could cut it from her own heart she would do so, and fling it into the fire!  

How could such a thing be? How could she love her Lord M so devotedly, so sincerely, and yet still be so…stirred…by another man?

She needed him.  Oh how she needed him!  Here!  Now!  On her!  Inside her!  His lips!  His hands!  His voice! His--

“Oh, God!” she whispered to the dark room, her face in her hands. “Oh, where _is_ he?”  

A soft rap on the door startled her.  She flew to open it.

“Where have you…been…” The last word died in her throat.

Sir Robert Dudley smiled. “I have asked myself that question ever since we met, Viscountess,” he said softly. “May I come in?”

“No,” she said hastily, angrily. “How dare you come here!”

“Oh,” he said in mock surprise, looking around himself. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“Have you been drinking, Sir Robert?” She said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“So I have. How clever of you to notice.”

He had been. Quite a lot. His doublet was unbuttoned and hanging loose. His shirt beneath opened at the neck. And the scent of wine and man accosted her.  

“I frequently do. Especially when I meet with…life’s little…disappointments.” He scoffed in a self-deprecating manner. “Of which I seem to have had more than my fair share recently.” He propped his arm up against the wall near her head.

Everything. _Everything_ in Victoria _screamed_ at her to slam the door in his face. Now. When there was still time.

Her hand remained frozen to the door.

“My God you are beautiful,” he whispered, his breath leaving him in a rush. “You charm me to the depth of my soul, Lady. Truly. I cannot…stay away. I know you will be angry at me for this intrusion. And yet I cannot…help myself. My feet tend in your direction. I begin to feel you are my true north.”

She saw nothing but sincerity in his eyes. She swallowed hard.

“You are always so angry at me. You would think it would discourage me. What man, after all, wants to shackle himself to a shrewish woman whom he cannot please? But I find I _want_ to please you. I want to discover the way to please you. _He_ pleases you, after all! So there must be a way…it is not impossible.  And I would do anything for that.  Anything to see you smile upon me.  To see welcome in your eyes.”

“Sir Robert…please…”

“’Please’? ‘Please’ what? Oh, such a sweet word from your lips is worth a king’s ransom! Say it again, Lady. Say my name…and that word again, and I will give you the world.”

“You should…go.” She said, closing her eyes.

“Go? You raise my hopes to the skies and then dash them earthward again with so little regard as that? ‘ _Go_ ’?”

“I cannot give you what you seek,” she said. “I have made that plain from the beginning.”

“ _Cannot_? Or _will_ not? Hmm?” He leaned in, a breath away from her. Her breathing was coming fast and shallow.

“The result is the same in either case,” she said pursing her lips.

His eyes caught the movement of her mouth.

“And yet, they are very different words,” he whispered. “With wholly different significance attached to each. Would you not agree, Viscountess? Say ‘cannot’, and you have no control. But if your will in the matter were permitted, you would. Say ‘will not’, and it is your will alone that forbids it. Not an outside force at all. The result is the same, surely, but the meaning…oh the _meaning_ …holds the world in the balance. So I beg of you to tell me which of these things prevents you from granting me what I seek. Your own will—or a force outside of it?”

“Both,” she said, willing herself to coldness. She could not have them both. No matter what this man stirred in her, it was wrong. Her other man—her heart’s desire—was the only choice.

He smiled, his full lips stretching wide in his handsome face, the extraordinarily white teeth beneath them catching the moonlight. “You are determined to give me no comfort then, I see. Nothing to hope for. Nothing to dream of. And yet, I perceive you are not as cold as you would have me believe. I think your blood runs a great deal hotter than you care for me to know, Viscountess. And that is the hope which shall fuel my dreams this eve. That, and this vision of you, gilded in the moonlight. So lovely. So fair. So close, and yet so far away from me.” His lips were nearly touching hers.

She should back away. Put distance between them. But she was held captive in the darkness of his eyes. A prisoner of memory and fantasy. If she was to have William, here was her forbidden fruit.

Why then did it seem so…delicious?

“I dare greatly, do I not? I should not be here, talking to you at this hour. Alone. In the dark. And you should upon no account be humoring me in the frame of mind I currently am in.”

“Then you should leave, by your own admission, Sir Robert.” She swallowed, but did not move.

“I should. But I find I have no will to do so.  As you have no will to close that door.”

She tore her eyes from his, seeking distraction for them both. A return to a normal plane, away from this dark, wild place she found herself.

“I…Sir Robert…I believe I owe you an apology. I believe I behaved rather poorly toward you this evening. I should not have treated you so. I hope you can forgive me.”

He drew a sharp breath, eyes brightening. “Truly? Does this mean I am forgiven for my poor aim on the court? For truly I am deeply sorry for it.”

“Yes, I suppose it does. If you have been truthful with me regarding the matter.”

“Always. I am always truthful with you. I lay my heart at your feet, Lady. Why indeed would I withhold truth from you? I am a man of honor after all.”

“So I believe you to be. Therefore, let my forgiveness comfort you to sleep, Sir Robert. I bid you good night.”

“Viscountess.” His voice was a whisper. “Your forgiveness warms my heart, t'is most true. Would you not grant me a small boon in addition?”

Her heart was hammering.

“What 'small boon'?”

“I said I never would do so again without your permission,” he said, eyes on her mouth. She observed his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. “Would you grant me a goodnight kiss?”

“Sir Robert—”

“Please. Just the one. I am so far in my cups that you can claim it was sympathy only. A kindness you bestowed upon a poor wretch who could barely keep his feet, that surely can do no harm anywhere. And if it comforts you, I can claim tomorrow to have no memory of it.”

“But I shall remember, Sir Robert,” she said finally.

“I know you love him. Not me. I am under no illusions to the contrary, I assure you.”

“Sir Robert I—”

“—you give him far more. He cannot possibly be made jealous by such a small thing. I ask but for a crumb of your affection, when he has the banquet to dine upon.”  His eyes were filled with sudden fire.

“As you say. I do not love you. Therefore would it not be cruel of me to encourage such feelings in yourself? It would be unfair surely. The most unkind of behavior.”

“No. On the contrary. It would be the kindest. And I shall always consider it to be so. A very great kindness, from a very great Lady, to a very drunk, very desperately unhappy man.”

“Are there no other ladies to offer such comforts to you? The court is full of them! And you are handsome enough to win them all!”

“I am handsome? Truly?  Well. At least there is that. Perhaps things are not as bleak as they seem after all." He smiled at her. "But as to the other ladies of court, I do not seek to win them because I do not want them. I want you.” He reached out and brushed her cheek softly with his hand. “So very much. _Please,_ ” he whispered the last word. “My goddess…my compass…mistress of my heart…would you deny a man dying of thirst his last drops of water? For that is what I am. Dying for wont of your love. If it contents you to see me such, why then, my mistress knows no mercy. Her heart is stone.”

“And what if it was? What if there was no hope for your love for her?”

“You speak as if I had a choice in loving,” he laughed again. “God, I sometimes wish I did. But alas, it is not the way of love to give such a choice. Is it, Viscountess? Our heart loves where it wills. It gives no thought to concerns of propriety. Or rightness. Or even hope. It is a wild creature that cannot be brought to heel. Cannot be schooled where and when and how…and _who_ …to love. And we are but the hapless victims of its whims. Tossed hither and thither in a constant storm of desire, fulfillment, longing. Our lives made chaos by its perverse nature. Made perfect by its passions. For from all of its wildness, we derive the very pleasure of our existence. Without it, our lives are not worth the living. Thus, you love _him_. And I love _you_. And neither of us has any choice in the matter at all. Therefore, thy kiss is a kindness, Lady, with which you spread a little balm on the great hurt in my heart. A little sweetness alongside the sorrow I must bear in knowing that you shall never love me thus. And I shall never have that which you have already bestowed upon a most fortunate other.”

“Sir Robert—” there was a plaintive tone in her voice. Such sweet words! Perhaps she had misjudged him all along. But how could she possibly give him what he desired? She did not wish to hurt him.  But what could she possibly do to avoid such?

 _“Please,_ ” he said simply, stroking her cheek. “Just this once. No one needs know. You give him an eternity of your love. I ask for but a moment only. A moment, that I may have the courage to go on.”

Moved by his words, she felt herself nod. So small a gesture she was sure he did not see. And yet, he did.

“Oh my Lady. I thank you. From the bottom of my heart.” With a sigh, he reached forward and kissed her.

His lips sent fire thundering through her veins. Blood pounding in her temples. A floodgate had opened and she could not stifle the moan that escaped her.  

He captured it in his own mouth and returned it. His lips were fuller than William’s. His touch, and the rhythm of his kiss different. Stronger. His hand cupped her neck and held her steady as he kissed her hard and fully. Intimately.

He tasted of wine and spices. His thumb caressing her throat as he opened his mouth against her, giving her his tongue, deepening the kiss, growling into her mouth.

Victoria felt him pull her into the hall. Felt her back hit the wall near her door. Felt his hard body press against her as his mouth boldly explored her own. There was a demand about his kiss that was totally absent in William’s. William kissed her reverently. Dudley’s kiss was insistent. Possessive. He plundered her mouth. Taking and taking all he could.

“Alexandrina,” he whispered, “Beauteous, lovely Alexandrina…your kiss sets my heart aflame. How my body cries out for yours…”

“Sir Robert,” she felt her knees buckling, “As you care for me, you must release me at once!”

“Your lips are sweet as berries…”  He kissed her again.  Mouth covering hers, claiming.  Commanding.

“We cannot! You must let me go!” She struggled against him, but he was bigger than her. And stronger. Her struggles made no difference whatsoever.

“Not yet, my sweet Viscountess! Grant me but a little more.  You are like wine! I cannot drink deeply enough of you. I am lost… _lost_ …”  He kissed her again, hard, pressing his body against hers as his lips trailed down her cheek to her throat.  

“Sir Robert! Stop this! Stop it at once!”

“You are everything,” he whispered. “Sweet, glorious creature that you are! I want you just like this. Here. Now.”

“I think not, Sir.”

At the sound of his voice, Victoria squeaked and Sir Robert froze. He pulled away from her, and turned, snakelike to the voice of the man who had interrupted.

Victoria gasped.

William’s face was like thunder. An expression of rage like she had never seen in him before burned from his eyes.

But was it directed at her, or at Dudley?

Guilt crushed her. Destroyed her as Dudley freed her.

Dudley opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. William’s fist smashed into it before he had a chance to say anything. Dudley crumpled to the floor.

Before she herself could utter a word, Lord M had grabbed her by the arm and towed her into their room, shutting and barring the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, one's characters can be very troublesome.
> 
> Everything was rocking and rolling along in the story, moving satisfactorily along in a straight line, until Dudley insisted he needed another chapter. He gave me no peace at all until I relented, and as you can see, he can be very persuasive when he wants to be. I had no choice but to comply. I told him it wouldn't make him look very good, but he would not be dissuaded from the possibility of getting another kiss from Victoria. So here it is. And he's caused no end of trouble, of course, as there's a subsequent chapter addition after this one to sort out his mess. 
> 
> As always, I love your comments! Dudley has sworn to me that this chapter was necessary and that you will all bear him out on this. I am unconvinced. But now that he has his chapter, I'm hopeful he will leave me in peace and let me write the rest of the story uninterrupted.


	34. Chapter 34--One Life's Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William and Victoria have a long talk.
> 
> *HEAT advisory on this one!* NSFW!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There's a scene  
> Indelible, it hangs before my eyes  
> […] incredibly  
> Together with no ties.
> 
> That was a life enough for me  
> One life's enough for me.
> 
> Throw back your head  
> Let your body curve  
> Into the long grass of the bed  
> Pull me down into your hair  
> And I'll push and swerve  
> As we both gasp in the evening air…”  
> (The Who, 1982).

Chapter 34—One Life’s Enough

 

The door closed with a slam as he drove the bolt home, his face grim.

“William, I—”

“Did he harm you?” He turned to her, his hands clamping onto her arms hard, almost painfully, his eyes burning into hers.

“What? No!”

“Did he force himself on you?”

“No! He kissed me only. Although I think he might have had not y—”

She got no farther. His mouth was on hers. Hard. Demanding. His tongue deep inside of her mouth. Claiming.

Reclaiming.

He kissed her wildly, and with an edge of fear.  He too tasted of wine. Fairly reeked of it. His hands slid heavily up her shoulders and into her hair, cradling her head, holding her inexorably to himself, strong fingers sliding through her hair, releasing it from its pins as he massaged her head.

He kissed her as if his very life depended on it.

Victoria moaned into his mouth, felt her knees turn to water and start to buckle.

She found her back against a wall again, and an entirely different man at her front.

The right man.

 _Her_ man.

His kiss had turned ferocious. Almost punishing. Hair pins continued to rain down around her, falling to the floor, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, free of all restraint. Bonelessly she clung to him as he kissed her and kissed her, her hands gripping his strong upper arms for support as her knees gave way, her body recognizing him, yielding to him, softening against its master.

“I have only one question for you,” he whispered harshly against her cheek. “Which man is it that you want, Victoria? Him? Or me?”

He was angry. So angry. And he had a right to be.

Even though she could feel his anger, she rubbed her cheek against his, adoring the rasp of his evening beard against her skin. He was here again, by her side, where he belonged.  Now all would be well. 

“Do you really have to ask me that question?” She gasped, head falling back against the wall with a thump. Weak with emotion and desire. Drunk with the relief, the beauty of his hands on her again. His lips. His body. His voice again caressing her ears.

“Yes,” he said, backing away from her. “Yes I think I do.” Green eyes bore into hers. His mouth set in a rigid line.

Victoria lifted her head and blinked at him, trying to clear her mind.

Oh yes, he was angry. Quite frightfully angry.

He gripped her again, pressing her shoulders against the wood paneling.  He did not hurt her, but Victoria felt the power in his big hands.  The restraint. How strong he was! He could break her in half like a twig, she realized suddenly. With no effort whatsoever on his part.

“I want to hear you say it,” he said sternly. “I _need_ to hear you say it.”

“I want you, William. Always you. Forever you. I swear it.”

“Then for the love of all that is holy, can you please explain to me why I come home tonight to find you out there kissing Robert Dudley!”

“It wasn’t what it looked like,” she said, throat dry. “I did grant him a kiss, but not like that!”

“You d—!” He gasped, his expression one of shock, as if she had kicked him in the chest. “Victoria…for God’s sake!”

“I didn’t think he would do that!”

“You didn’t th—” He dropped his eyes, releasing her and stepping back. “No. You didn’t think, did you? You didn’t think about me even the smallest measure! That is crystal clear!”

“That’s not true!”

“Do you recall the night I kissed Elizabeth? How that tore you apart? My God, Victoria--I didn’t kiss her half as long, half as…passionately…as you were just kissing him! How could y—” he took a deep breath, ran his hands distractedly through his curls, “how can you c-claim to c-care for me, to want me to— _love_ me—and kiss another man like that?” His eyes were swimming as he gazed at her.

The brokenness in their green depths knocked the wind from her body.

“I never kissed her that way,” he said finally, swallowing hard, dropping his eyes to his folded hands. “Never...open mouthed. That is an…intimacy…that is yours alone. And yet I find Dudley, _grinding_ himself against you, his tongue so far down your throat that he could lick your navel!”

“I never consented to that!”

“You said you gave him permission!”

“Yes! For the same sort of kiss you gave Elizabeth, not for what he took!”

“You said he did not force himself on you, when I asked you before. For God’s sake, Victoria, which is it?”

“He forced that kiss upon me, yes. But not...himself.  Not beyond what you saw."

His eyebrows shot up and he nodded, still gazing at his folded hands. “I see.  So you granted him a small kiss, and he took...what I saw." 

"Just before you arrived, he said he..." she took a deep breath.  "He said he...wanted me.  Just like that.  'here and now,' he said.  I do not know what might have happened had you not arrived when you did.  I tried to stop him but..." she sobbed, feeling the tears run down her face.  "He was too...big for me.  Too strong.  I was scared."

"I hope to God he has quitted our corridor by now, for I have half a mind to run him through with my sword for this."  He exhaled strongly, his eyes cold.  "Were it not for his part in history that he still needs to play, I would."

"Elizabeth will no doubt take it unkindly that you have already clouted him so hard.  Though for my own part, I can only thank you."

"Elizabeth will not hear of it.  Of that I am certain." 

"Why ever not?"

"Because, Victoria, he would have a great deal of explaining to do, do you not think, to represent to Her Majesty as I was in the wrong, when it was he who had come to your door, intoxicated, in the middle of the night?  When he had pulled you into the hallway and was in process of violating you when I happened along?  Do you not think it would reflect more poorly upon himself for his own behavior, rather than upon me for defending you?  Elizabeth would probably banish him from court for his actions at least for a short period, in which case he could not continue to woo you, which would interfere most egregiously with his current plans.  To say nothing of the fact that if he intends to appeal for her permission for your hand that this would prevent his aims.  No.  I believe when Elizabeth questions his appearance in the morning he will have a most benign excuse thought up.  He will have fallen down the stairs in a drunk stupor and struck his jaw upon a railing, or some such foolishness.  It will be most diverting to hear his story, I have no doubt."

"Oh.  I suppose that is so."  She breathed a sigh of relief. 

"In any case, he will not try it again, I should think."  He gave her a penetrating look.  "You are sure you are unharmed?"

"I am." 

He nodded, dropping his eyes again.  He turned his hands over, taking deep breaths, pain infusing every line of his body. 

How it grieved her to see him looking so stricken!  She wanted to go to him. To wrap her arms around him. To tell him that she loved him. But how could she offer comfort when she was the source of his pain? It would only pain him the more. She wrapped her arms tight around herself, sinking, sliding with her back to the wall all the way to the floor.

“It is a violation of the grossest kind to force any sort of unwanted attention or intimacies upon another person," he said, still not looking at her. "He should never have done it. Whatever he took beyond what you freely gave was wrong indeed. But Victoria, with some men that line becomes…blurred…very easily.  You must remember that we are in most unenlightened times, and you are not queen here.  Nothing here is what you are accustomed to.  To some men, a woman’s consent to any sort of affections is carte blanche. In his own mind you see, he can now take what he wants from you with impunity. Once a woman says yes to one thing, it applies to all.  It is not just, I know.  But it is the way of things.  You would do well to remember that in future.”

“I was foolish.  I see that quite clearly now.  Oh William, I am so sorry,” she said, feeling the tears run down her face. “It is an inadequate statement to make, considering the pain I have caused you. But I am. I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” She said in a small voice.

“Forgive you? My God, Ma’am. There is nothing to forgive!  Not of you.  Besides which, I could forgive you anything. Do you not know that by now?” He took a deep breath, eyes brilliant with tears shed and unshed, his heart laid bare in their shimmering green depths. “This is not about forgiveness. You are already forgiven for whatever small part you played in this."

"Then why do you hold yourself apart from me?" She whispered.  "If you are not angry.  And there is nothing to forgive me for?"

He took a deep, ragged breath, closing his eyes briefly in pain.  "You did grant him a kiss, however small.  And however he took more than you intended.  Nevertheless...you offered."  He raised his eyes to her and she gasped to see the distance in them.  "It is not on account of forgiveness, or lack thereof, that I hold myself apart from you.  But I would be a fool not to question it.  You see, I’m not entirely sure anymore that I am what you really want,” he said the words with difficulty, his mouth turned down as he fought to force them out through his pain. “I am not entirely sure that you even know what you want. Or who.”

She could not breathe. She could not speak. It was as if she were trapped inside of her body, watching from a long distance away as the horror of what he said fell onto her like a death knell.

“After everything we’ve been through. After what I’ve been through, of which he was the principal cause...you granted him a kiss willingly.  I confess it was the last thing I expected to see.  And as a result, I find myself questioning what is really in your heart."

Victoria shook her head, still mute.  This was not happening.  This was a nightmare!  This had to be a nightmare!

“That you bear me a great deal of affection, and even love in some form, I fully comprehend. But I’m not entirely sure that it is the same type of love I bear you. It is not as though you set out to lie or mislead me, or leave me outright. You would never be so cruel; it is not in your nature.  However it is highly possible that your feelings for me are…misguided. Misplaced. Mis—interpreted. And this incident is testimony to the fact that you and I are at cross-purposes. That you could develop feelings for Robert Dudley indicates that your affections for me and choice of me as your preferred mate is perhaps not truly what you heart desires. Or even in either of our best interests. You are so young, after all—”

“Do not TELL me how I am too young to know whom my heart loves!” Victoria snapped to herself again with a vehemence, rising to her feet in indignation. “The granting of one kiss out of sympathy does not equal love! Did you not tell me so yourself?  It was the reason you kissed Elizabeth!  How can you presume to question my feelings for you after all that we have shared?” Tears streamed down her face. “After all that I have given to you! And all I have risked in the giving! Have I not told you how you are the only one? The only man I love! The only man I could ever, EVER love! I did not deceive you! I confess that I do like Sir Robert to some degree, and I no longer believe that he intended to harm you. But I do not care for him! Not in the way I do for you! I do not love him! Lord Melbourne, he is not you! Do you truly think me capable of giving myself over and over to different men? Do you think me a prostitute?”

“No! God no, Ma’am!”

“I have given you _everything_! Everything in _here_!” She clutched at her chest. “Everything I _am_! I have given you my heart. My body. My very soul! My virtue! No one! No one has ever known me as intimately as you do! No one has ever touched me as you do—inside and out! You have formed me—made me into who I am! You have loved me! You have taught me! You have believed in me, stood by me, fought for me when no one else would! You have been adviser, friend, confidante, champion, protector and dearest, dearest lover! How could I possibly love another? How could Robert Dudley, or any other man, possibly come close to how I feel for you? How could he hope to compete with what we have? What we have been to each other! How you know me and all my faults, and still love me! There is nothing left of me that I have not given you, and still you say I do not love you enough! That you do not know if I truly love you?

“What more do you want as proof of my love, William? What more could I possibly give to convince you I know my own heart, and that it is yours?! Name it, and I shall give it! Upon my very _life_ it shall be yours. Accuse me of stupidity and blindness if you will, but do not, do _not_ accuse me of not loving you!”

“I do not. I said I fully comprehend that you do! But perhaps it is of—a different nature—than you suppose!”

“So again, you think me incapable of knowing one kind of love from another!”

“Indeed, I do _not_ think you incapable of anything! I think you of a very affectionate and passionate nature. And perhaps too inexperienced to know true, abiding love from the love that comes of a strong friendship!”

“Friendship! _Friendship_?! You think all I feel for you is _friendship_?!”

“I know you do not believe it to be such but—”

“Lord Melbourne. Cease talking this instant. Or Elizabeth’s castle or not, I shall find something _very_ hard and very _breakable_ and hurl it myself at your head!”

He sighed, gazing at her, amusement, exasperation and love all mingled in his eyes. His mouth quirked up on one side. He dropped his eyes to his hands again, nodding. “May I have your permission, Ma’am, to ask you something?”

“It depends. Will it further infuriate me?”

“It might. But I am prepared to risk it because it is something I must know.” His eyes were green as jade. And why the devil were his lashes so long and so beautiful?

She could refuse him nothing when he looked at her like that.

It was her turn to sigh. “Very well.”

“You said a moment ago that you admit to liking Sir Robert Dudley.”

“I did,” she said, breaking eye contact for a moment. Guilt rose up in her like bile.

“I am aware that you love me—I will not presume to question that again.”

“Very good of you.”

“But I would have you tell me the truth about your affection for him.  Why did you offer to kiss him, Victoria?  I must know.  The truth.  You asked me what I needed as proof--I need the truth from you about him.  That is all. ”

She sighed, arms wrapped about her again and turned to pacing.

“I do not know why I did it.  I do not understand it myself.  I do not want him!”

“He is generally regarded to be very handsome. The Queen certainly thinks so.”

“Then why doesn’t she call _him_ to her side everyday and do us all a favor?!”

“I could not agree more, Ma’am.”

“Do not call me 'Ma’am', William. You are returning us to our former relationship. I cannot abide it when you do that. Except of course under certain circumstances,” she said softly.

His eyes met hers. He smiled slightly. “Victoria.”

Dear God he was beautiful. So beautiful and so perfect. How indeed could she have ever been captivated by Robert Dudley? Again she cursed herself for her weakness, and what it had cost him.  Herself.  Them.

"I do not understand it," she repeated.  "I suppose he is very persistent.  But that is not it either."

"I have observed," he said slowly, "that he seems to provoke a violent...response in you."

"I hate him.  I do not hate him.  Ooh!!!  I wish him GONE!"

“Because he unsettles you.”

“Yes!  He will not leave me be.  He pesters me night and day to marry him.  That he loves me.  That he will care for me.  I tell him I do not wish him to love me or care for me, and he follows me all the more!”

 "Still.  It is clear he has gained some measure of your affection." 

"Perhaps he has, a little," she said in a small voice. "He is a kind man, underneath it all, I believe.  And he is sincere.  But my feelings for him are nothing like what I feel for you!"

"Of course not, for you and I have far more history together, and far more intimacy. But it seems that there is the...potential...for you to develop stronger feelings for him, were it not for me?"

"No! For there _is_ you, William! And I cannot give him what he seeks because that is yours!"

"Is it?"  His eyes were again on his hands.  He swallowed hard.

"It is.  And it always shall be.  I am yours, William.  If you will still have me."

He nodded, not raising his eyes to her.  But she perceived now if she approached him, he would welcome it.  She went to him, placed her hands on his where they were clasped in front of his body. He did not raise his eyes, but his hands yielded to hers without resistance. She held them in her own. Such strong hands. 

“Victoria, your love humbles me. It always has. I have never felt worthy of it. But even though I have felt at times woefully inadequate to be your mate, you look at me with the most blinding love I have ever seen in the eyes of any woman before. Your love is like the sun to me—it warms me. Holds life itself.” He met her eyes briefly. “Will I have you?  God...of course I will.  Never have I ever loved a woman so fiercely as I love you, or wanted a woman so much as I want you, in any context you care to apply.  What I want most of all is to claim you as my own woman. Truly. Once and for all, before God and all the world. Where none can question that you are mine, and no Dudleys can ever hound your steps again.”

“I long for that too,” she said, stroking his hands softly. “More than I could ever express.”

“But if there is one thought I cannot bear, it is the thought of you, my dearest girl, in the arms of another man. There was a time when I could have withstood it. It would have torn my heart from my chest, but I could have endured, if I knew you were happy and content. But now…now it is far too late for me. We have shared too much. Been too much to one another. Made love, body and soul to one another. I have given you more of myself than I have ever given to another.  You are so deeply a part of me now that I cannot share your affections with Dudley or anyone else. Above all I cannot bear to think that you are with me bodily, but with him in your heart. I know these are trying circumstances for us both, but I would ask you for one kindness. In the name of all the love you hold for me in your heart, I would ask you that if you want him, please, for the love of God, please tell me now.  Or else stop kissing him forever.”

“I promise it," she said quickly.  "It shall never happen again.  I do not want him,” she said to his hands, stroking them lovingly. “You are all I want. You are everything I need.”

She held his hands to her lips, kissing his strong, beautiful fingers. He removed one of his hands gently from her grasp to cup her face, stroking her cheeks, wiping her tears. She wrapped both hands around the other, kissing his palm and holding it to her face as well. He pulled her eyes to his, wiping her tears gently. They gazed at each other for a long moment, frozen in the eyes of each other. Victoria captured one of his hands again, turned it palm up, nuzzling her cheek against it, then placing a kiss right at its center.

He breathed out, a long ragged breath.

She kissed his hand again.  Such kindness and power in these hands. She covered his thick palm in little kisses, wishing to feel every part of it against her lips.  She lay her face in it again, marveling at the warmth and strength of his hands as he cradled her head gently.

He held perfectly still, watching her as she lavished adoration upon his hand, eyes glistening, throat working.

How many times had he held her hand and kissed it? How many nights of her old life had she lain in her bed clutching her pillow, replaying the feeling of her hand in his over and over again, wondering what it would be like to feel them on her body somewhere else?  And now she knew how they felt against her everywhere.  Their warm reassurance against her skin.  Their skillful coaxing of sensuous pleasures. She took his in both of her hands, holding it, caressing it with her fingers, kissing her way up his thumb. Then down again and up to his index finger. She raised the tip of his finger to her mouth and placed her lips there for another little kiss, when a sharp intake of ragged breath made her look up in surprise.

She knew that look. Oh, so very well.

 _How exceedingly interesting_.

She wet her lips and gave him a little smile, then pursed her lips against the tip of his finger and kissed it. Slowly.

His eyes closed, and he let out a little moan.

So she hadn’t imagined it!

She gazed at his beloved hand again, at the long, graceful fingers. A sudden impulse seized her. She wet her lips again and drew his index finger into her mouth.

He made a noise she had never heard him make before, and it sent heat shooting straight to her center.

Raising her eyes to his, she drank in his expression. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, all his concentration on what she was doing.

_What an absolutely delicious new game._

His finger was still in her mouth, she pressed her lips down all the way to its base, then in one long indulgence, pulled it out again, sucking on it as if it were a sweet.

More noises. Primal. Hungry little noises that echoed through her.  

She pressed it into her mouth again, deliberately mimicking another activity, and wrapped her tongue around it, swirling and licking and tugging until the sounds coming from him were increasingly desperate. She drew her mouth away with a pop, licking her lips in contemplation of the rest of his hand.

“Yes,” he whispered, moaning as she took his middle finger into her mouth, “oh yes…”

She gave his second finger the same treatment. It was so pleasing, so satisfying an activity she wondered that she'd never thought of it before. There was something so wicked about it. And so divine. It felt right to worship his hands this way. His solid, strong hands that had always been there for her….

Her eyes were closed in concentration and enjoyment when suddenly he growled—a half-crazed, feral sound--and his other hand reached down to grasp her cheek. He pressed his finger deeper into her mouth then withdrew it, then pressed it in again. A few times more—faster, harder—then withdrew it with a cry and crushed his lips to hers.

His kiss was wild, hands grasping her throat as his kissed her deeply, frantically. Then he broke the kiss and lifted her off her feet.

They were both too lost for words. Victoria was drowning in his eyes, her lips still tingling from his kiss, the salty taste of his skin still in her mouth, and her body aching for his. She cupped his face with her hands and touched her forehead to his as he carried her into his room, closing and barring the door behind him.

* * *

He was on fire. Body and soul alike burned for the woman in his arms. Needing her like he needed his next breath. It didn’t matter what had happened in the hallway. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was that she was looking at him with worship in her eyes, with adoration and with a need and a hunger as bottomless as his own.

And God, did she know how to arouse him!  How to make him hard as steel with wanting of her. 

He wanted to rip the clothes from her body. Vent his anger and his lust on them, but he knew better. Ripped clothing would require explanation...repair...gossip they could not afford.  Hands shaking with the effort, he forced himself to patience. Bloody hell, he needed her naked! _Now._ The eternity it took them both to discard their clothing was criminal. He should have just taken her anyway. Tossed her skirts up around her ears and buried himself to the hilt inside of her hot, wet body.

He was on her the minute the last of her was freed of her clothing. There was a powerful urgency in him. A primitive drive to claim her now. Instantly.

Claim her he did.

Her eyes flew wide as he finally thrust himself into the warm, slick, welcoming body of his darling love.

“Did I hurt you?” he managed.

“No,” she moaned, clutching at him, writhing beneath him. “Oh no! You're so perfect! Oh my darling, don't stop now! Please!”

He covered her. How he needed her! His darling girl. His everything. He held his weight on his elbows, close enough to brush the hair of his body all along her smooth skin, tickling her and making her purr like a contented cat.

“Mine,” he growled at her, too far gone to be gentlemanly and erudite, pulling back and then slamming himself hard forward. She reached up a hand and touched his face lightly, breathless rapture on her face, blue eyes vacant with lust.

This.  This was how he wanted to see her.  Forever.  Beneath him.  All around him.  Lost in what he was making her feel.  What only he could do to her. 

“Mine,” she whispered in return, lips parted, breathing shallow.

Oh God yes!  She was so perfect.  So bloody perfect she could have been made for him! 

He smiled and kissed her fingers. “Always.”

It didn’t take long.

Two more powerful strokes and both of them were there. Together.

And just like that, everything in William’s world was perfect once again. 

For as long as she was still his. 

* * *

“You are awake,” she said later, her little hand winding itself into his chest hair, threading her fingers through it, toying with it idly.

His heart melted. God how he loved her touch. How it charmed and humbled him to watch her enjoy his body, to feel her little caresses, to know she was deriving comfort as well as pleasure from the simple act of touching him. Despite everything, that little gesture undid him. He took a deep breath.

How long? How long before he lost her? Before she preferred another? His heart crumbled at just the thought. Shrank away from the pain of it. Dear God, it might truly finish him. 

“Yes,” he said simply. He kissed the top of her head in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

It wasn’t. She knew him too well. She raised up, her blue eyes seeking his in the semidarkness.

“William—I do not love him.”

He smiled a little. She was becoming far too adept at reading him.

“I know,” he replied simply.

“I am so sorry.”

“You don’t have to ap—”

Her lips were on his.

“Yes,” she whispered between kisses. “I do.”

He moaned against her. So hungry was he for her reassurances. God he really was a fool to need her so much, to bare so much of himself to her. To allow himself to fall so bloody hard. But with her—he could not hold himself back. She simply took her place on the throne of his heart, and looked up at him and smiled, knowing she belonged there. And indeed, she did. He’d been waiting all his life for her.

Oh how she charmed him with her desire! To feel her sweet little mouth on his so heatedly, so demanding! How could it be that she loved him so very much? This divine creature?

Yes, his darling girl was still his.

But for how long?

She did like Robert Dudley. And had it not been for himself, William had no doubt that Victoria would have fallen hard for him. Every moment he was away from her side, Dudley was on hand to woo her. To seduce her. He could see it for what it was, though she herself was blind to it. At least for now. How much of this outpouring of affection was fear on her part? Fear of the unknown? Fear of change? Fear of what Dudley made her feel…

His own fear seized him, and he kissed her almost brutally.

He could not lose her. He could not! He would never survive, and yet he knew what she herself did not yet understand. That she would not love him this way forever. That there would come a day when a man would cross her path and her affections would transfer. For despite all her insistence, he could not help but know that her affections, her love for him, was in some small part misguided feelings. Confused perhaps. And since he had made her his lover, they had naturally intensified. But the intensity did not alter the fact that they were still misplaced. It was only a matter of time before she knew it, too.

He should have known better. Did know better. But could not stop what happened between them. It had been inevitable as the tide. He could not fight it. But there persisted in the depths of his heart a clawing guilt that he should have stopped it. He was older and wiser. He should have resisted. Gently but firmly dissuaded her. But he had been too weak. And had fallen head over heels into his own impossible fantasy and claimed her for his own, when he had no right to do so.

And now…now it was too late. For them both.

They were bonded together, the two of them. Tight as any marriage. Questions of whether or not he should or she should have started on this path together were long ago made irrelevant. What was done was done. There was no undoing it now.

When Victoria moved on—moved away from him, as he knew she inevitably would—it would very probably kill him. But he long ago had accepted his fate for what it was, and would continue to live in the dream until it vanished entirely. At which point he would submit himself to the full consequences of his folly—to whatever end.

But perhaps…perhaps when that day came, the memory of what was would be enough. Perhaps he could live on his memories for whatever time would be left to him, treasure and hold them close to his heart the way he treasured her now. And so he vowed to live every moment he had with her to the fullest. To savor every touch, every sigh, every word of love she ever gave him, and lock it away deep in his heart. To have loved her even once was more than he had a right to aspire to. But to love and be loved by her for any length of time…he would be a fool indeed to say it was not enough.

“I do not want him. I want you!” She whispered vehemently against his mouth. “Always you. Always…oh my darling William!”

He opened his eyes to gaze at her. His heart greedy for her words. To see the truth of them in her eyes.

“Only you. Only ever you for me,” she said, taking his lips again with hers.

The pleasure and pain of it! If only—if only it could be true! He moaned again, helpless against this delicious barrage of her affection. She believed it to be true, he knew she did. And he loved her all the more for her vehemence in declaring it. Dear God, she was adorable. He had no chance whatever against her. She was worth whatever suffering lay in his future. He would live with his guilt as far as she was concerned, but he would never regret a moment he’d ever spent with her.

She was climbing on top of him. Straddling him. Sliding down his body. Bloody hell, she was wet! She left a streak of wet heat down his body as she moved. He moaned again, a spike of sheer lust straight to his groin as he watched her adorable little determined self take the upper hand, preparing to take her pleasure of him.

He said nothing, but held her eyes as she moved down his body. No. There was no reason to any of this. It was madness, what they had embarked upon.  But reason could go to the devil so long as she was looking at him like this.

Yes, it would be enough, he thought. Enough even in memory. To know that she loved him like this, even once in his lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a difficult chapter to write. I think in all I wrote about 3 different versions of how William would respond to Victoria kissing Dudley. In the end, this was the one that felt the most true to the characters as I have drawn them.


	35. Chapter 35--Nocturne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and William share some additional, much needed quality time. 
> 
> *EXCEEDINGLY STRONG HEAT ADVISORY on this one! Very, extremely from start to finish NSFW! Repeat....N.S.F.W.! Probably the most NSFW thing I've ever written!*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Now let the day,  
> Just slip away  
> So the dark night may watch over you  
> Velvet blue,  
> Silent, true  
> It embraces your heart and your soul--  
> Nocturne
> 
> Never cry, never sigh  
> You don't have to wonder why  
> Always be, always see  
> Come and dream the night with me--  
> Nocturne
> 
> Have no fear,  
> When the night draws near  
> And fills you with dreams and desires  
> Like a child asleep,  
> So warm, so deep  
> You will find me there waiting for you--  
> Nocturne
> 
> We will fly, claim the sky  
> We don't have to wonder why  
> Always be, always see  
> Come and dream the night with me--  
> Nocturne
> 
> Though the darkness fades  
> It will give way  
> When the dark night delivers the day--  
> Nocturne.”  
> (Triniti, 2006).

Chapter 35—Nocturne

Victoria caressed his face, holding his eyes and sliding her body down his, causing him to moan with anticipation. He liked it when she rode him. So did she. But that was not what she had in mind this time.

She had wronged him. She felt it keenly. Guilt claimed her at the betrayal she had seen swimming in his eyes. At the shocked grief. Rarely had she ever seen his face so naked, so laid bare before her. She was so accustomed to thinking of him as her rock. As her unfailing protector. As always knowing what was best to do. His humor, his wit, his experience was always at the ready. Never had she seen him so…lost.

Until tonight.

She would make it up to him, she told herself, kissing her way down his chest, running her hands along his body, feeling him shiver, hearing him moan. If it took her a lifetime, she would make it up to him every single day of it. Until he was again confident in her love.

And she would begin it now.

She had been so curious about something for so long, and his reactions to her attentions to his hand had given her courage to explore.  After all, he did such things to her. Why would it not be just as enjoyable for him, were she to repay the favor? Judging by his earlier reaction, she could only assume it would be very enjoyable indeed.

“Where are you going?” A few moments later his breath caught as he realized what she was about, and he propped himself up on his elbows. “Victoria…no!”

“Why not?” She asked, her hands on either side of his abdomen as she paused to rub her face against the soft fuzz of his belly. How she loved his scent! His texture!

Something she was doing he liked. Very much indeed. She smiled a little wickedly, sliding downward a little, capturing him between her breasts, sliding them down his length.

She could see him swallow from here, his eyes never leaving hers. He gasped, eyes glued to her.

“Ma’am, I—”

“--I love you,” she whispered. “I shall never stop finding ways to show you just how much I love you, my darling Lord Melbourne.”

He didn’t answer but watched her open-mouthed, as she bent her mouth toward her objective.

“No,” he said a little weaker. “You mustn’t…”

She held his eyes, and wet her lips. “Please. Allow me at least this taste of you. And if you do not like it, tell me so and I will stop at once.”

He was moaning before she even touched him, his hands hovering somewhere in the proximity of her head, and then, as if they did not quite know where to land, finally clamping down on the sheets beside him.

“Oh…dear…God,” he whispered, watching her as she bent her head and took him between her lips.

She slid him deep into her mouth. Filling it with him.  

Ohhh!  He felt so good here too!  She took him deeper, as deep as she could manage, swirling her tongue around him as she had done his fingers, sliding back up until he popped out of her mouth. She looked up his body and smiled.

Yes, very satisfactory indeed.  In more ways than one.

His head was thrown back in the pillow, chin and jaw jutting upwards, giving her a beautiful view of his strong throat. His chest was heaving, and he’d balled two fists of bedclothes. She ran her hand over his fuzzy thigh, and he shivered. Slowly he lifted his head to regard her through heavy-lidded eyes.

He liked watching. She knew he did.

She ran her fingers over him lightly, then brought her hand down to cup him softly beneath. His breathing grew ragged as she held her lips against him, darting her tongue out to taste him again. This was entirely too much fun. How had she not had the courage to try this sooner?

“Do you wish me to stop?” She asked him.

A deep, guttural, masculine groan was all she got for a reply. She smiled wickedly at him, and then drew him into her mouth again.

* * *

He was damned.

He was so, so bloody damned.

To let his Queen do this? But…ohh…one touch of her sweet lips there on his cock, and he was gone. Just the sight of her there! Not to mention her touch. It was so wrong. So wicked. But ohhh so sweet! So bloody good!

He would be wrong to say he had never imagined this. Never wanted it. Never indulged in long, elaborate fantasies in various locations and positions, from well before they had ever become lovers. Always the fantasies had ended with him so hard he had had to result to shameful self-relief in order to simply return to a state of equilibrium again. Until of course they had come here, where he could simply tackle her instead.

It was one of those debauched fantasies one never imagined would ever come true.

He opened his eyes to witness the truth of it again. The sight of her. The feeling—God above!—of her lips, her tongue, her sweet, hot, wet mouth…sliding up and down him with sensual abandon.

Anyone would imagine that she was a woman of the night, a goddess of the brothel, not a sweet, high-born woman who had only ever had one partner—himself. No one would ever believe she had never done this before.

He himself could not believe it, and he knew it for a fact.

He watched her in fascination. He could not turn away. Watched himself disappear inside her delicate, beautiful little mouth, watched her take him all in.

 _Ohhhh_.

No woman had ever. Ever. Felt. So. Good.

His delicious, wicked, beautiful little minx! Her beautiful head bent over her task, her long silky hair brushing and tickling his thighs, concentration and--ohhh God, _enjoyment_ \--written on her face. From the contented little sounds she was making, she was bloody loving it as much as he was!

 _Forgiven_ , he thought at her, throwing his head back on the pillow with a gasp. _All was forgiven now.  Past, present, and the whole damned bloody future too._

He thumped his head back into the pillow again. How did she know? How did she know just how to work him? Not for the first time, her instinctive sensuality amazed him. And when she brought her little hand up to cup and fondle his bollocks he moaned aloud, and wondered if it were possible to die of pleasure.

“Victoria…” he whispered her name like a benediction. His whole body was on fire! Every single part of him awash with pleasure. And oh, did he want to be more wicked still! He wet his own lips. “Come here.”

She relinquished him slowly, regretfully, taking a long, slow, sucking drag of him as she went. The room outside of her was freezing. One moment without her was torment. He was shaking all over, wanting the delicious warm, wet heat of her back again.

Bloody hell, he was so close! He throbbed with need. But this was not right. There was something missing he needed.  Desperately needed. One thing more to make this right.

She came to him, looking immensely pleased with herself. “Yes my love?”

He pulled her in and kissed her hard and deep, tasting himself in her mouth, tongue plunging in and out, ravishing, devouring her with gratitude, with devotion. He released her, and stroked her cheek with his hand.

“Turn around,” he panted. “Oh, turn around for me.”

She looked at him, confused.

He indicated to her what he wanted her to do. She climbed on top of him as he wanted, and he groaned deep and long as she straddled him backwards, took him between her lips again, this time presenting him with a heavenly view. And more than a view. Heaven above, she was so ready for him! He ran his hand across her, fingers teasing, stroking, listening to her moans vibrate around him. She was dripping wet! Did she really enjoy his cock in her mouth so very much?

Could there _be_ any more perfect a woman ever made?

He raised himself up, pulled her hips down to his own face, ran his hands over her smooth, cool, slender curves, kneading and squeezing, stroking and caressing. He kissed and tasted and nipped her thighs, feeling her sigh against him before he reached up and feasted himself fully on her.

Oh yes. Now he had everything he needed.

* * *

He was delicious. So delicious. So perfect and huge and smooth and silky. She liked this. Oh, she liked it very much. She liked his response, all the raw, animal sounds coming from him. He was losing control, becoming wild beneath her. She loved bringing him to this place. It made her wild too.

And what he was doing to her! She was beginning to lose her own rhythm as her senses exploded. She wanted to go back farther…press against him harder…

_More. Oh yes, more of that. Right t_ _here._

Him in her mouth. His mouth on her. His tongue…ohh and his hands and fingers too!

She whimpered, pulling on him harder. Deeper. Needing more. Wanting more. Wanting all of him. His hips began to thrust against her. And the primitive sounds he was making intensified her pleasure so she could barely contain it.

“Come to me,” he whispered against her body. “My love, my queen…let me feel what I do to you. Come to me!”

A cry ripped from her throat. She closed her lips around him and drew him in deep as she could take him, pressing him hard, sliding up and down his length. Yes, yes, oh yes! This was so much better than before! 

A strangled cry erupted from him and suddenly he withdrew himself, rolled her over off of him. Before she could process what was happening, Victoria found herself flat on her back on the bed, looking up at a very large and achingly beautiful man covering her, his eyes feral and dark with lust. She purred to feel him at her entrance. And suddenly his mouth was covering hers as he pulled her warmly into his arms.

“My wicked, wicked girl!” His tongue deep in her mouth, he reached for her hips, raising them, pulling her ankles up on to his shoulders and pressing down to her again, forcing her legs into a deep stretch. "Bloody hell--Ma'am!  What a naughty little thing you are turning out to be.  What ever am I going to do with you, hm?  This will never do for a queen, you know.  Has no one ever told you that you should not behave in so depraved a manner with your Prime Minister?" He took her bottom into his hands and squeezed.

"I was rather under the impression that my Prime Minister liked it quite a lot."

"Oh he did," he purred against her.  "He can't quite believe it happened, but oh, he liked it very much."

"Then I fail to see the problem.  Will it be a constitutional violation then, Lord M?  Am I forbidden to pleasure you thus by law?"

"Only if it is reported," he said, nuzzling her happily.  "And owing to our current circumstances, by the time such a report is received by our own time, we shall be far beyond their reach.  Dear God, Ma'am, but you are so good."  He kissed her deeply.  "So good in every way.  I need you every way..."  he entered her, making them both gasp.

She cried out as he pressed in deep, filling her slowly, her already sensitive body now quivering with this new onslaught. 

“Victoria,” he growled against her, his movements slow this time, rocking deep. “How I love you. I adore you. My angel! My darling girl!”

“My--Lord--M!” She said, gasping and shuddering. "My William!  Never stop!”

He rubbed his face against her leg, warm breath tickling her calf. Groaning, his pace increased.

“Victoria…I can’t…be… gentle!”

“Don't you dare be gentle!!  I don't want gentle!  Please!" She bucked against him, spurring him on. 

His movements grew erratic as he pounded against her, given over to his lust.

He was so beautiful, was her Lord M!  His body glistened with sweat, slippery against her, his head bowed, unruly curls damp with exertion, strong muscles of his body straining, the animal sounds coming from him making her blood run like fire through her body.    

Growling out encouragement, fingers clawing his shoulders, her hips meeting his stroke for stroke until he threw his head back and roared.

It hit her like a gale, pounding through her limbs with blinding force, and she screamed as he filled her with his seed, convulsing as wave after wave of ecstasy rolled through her body, wringing her out, exhausting her, leaving her spent and trembling in its wake.

When it was over he collapsed, hot and solid on top of her, his cheek pillowed on her breast. She wrapped her arms and legs around him happily, toying with his damp curls as they both slowly came back to Earth together.

“Victoria…” he whispered against her. “My God, Victoria!”

“You liked that?”

Excited, happy noises were all she got for a response as he nuzzled against her breast.

“So, I trust I made my point clear then?”

“Yes, you determined little vixen,” he said, huffing a laugh. “I believe you did.”

“I love you. No one else.”

“My girl…my sweet, darling girl…” he rolled his face over, kissing her all over her breast, drawing it into his mouth and suckling her.

“I am sorry about everything before,” she said again, stroking his hair. “It is all my fault.”

He released her breast from his mouth, nuzzling her happily.  "Think no more of it.  It was far more his fault than yours and now it is over."

"I could never love another man.  Not now.  I hope you know that."  She said, still combing her fingers through his hair, amusing herself by pulling his curls straight and watching them spring back to his head again.  "I love your hair," she whispered. "It is so adorably curly.  I used to fantasize about winding my hands in it.  Back in the days when a touch of your hand, and a kiss on my knuckles was the only touch permitted between us."

"It still is the only touch _permitted_ between us, Ma'am.  Even if we did take matters into our own hands."  He gave her his sad smile, stroked her hair. “No.  You have the loveliest hair,” he said softly. “It is like a curtain of silk.  So soft. Like your skin.  How I love it unbound and flowing down your shoulders.” He kissed the shoulder in question.  "Wild and young and free.  As you should always be."

“Lord Melbourne.”

He raised his eyes to hers.

“I do not believe you believe me when I say I love you.”

He dropped his eyes.

“I believe you believe it,” he said in a whisper. “I know you to be sincere.”

“But you do not believe I truly love you. Even now.”

“I believe you are very young still, my darling. And I am not.”

She pulled him up to her, taking his face in her own hands, holding his eyes with hers.

“Do you really think that matters to me?”

“No. But it does matter.”

“Why should it? If not to me and not to you, why do you persist in bringing it up as though it is a barrier?”

“Because it is in a way.”

“How?”

He sighed. “Because young blood cries out for young blood. You will want a younger man eventually. One will catch your eye and then you will realize—”

“Realize? _Realize?_! Realize what? That I don’t love you after all, is that what you think that I will realize?”

He swallowed and dropped his eyes.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“How can I hope to hold you,” he said in a small voice, caressing her skin. “When I could not hold my own wife, even when I, too, was young? Even then I was inadequate. So how could I hope to hold you now, when I could not hold her, even in my prime? Surely you too will become discontented with me, in time, though you may not think so now.”

“Oh, William!” She breathed and kissed him. And kissed and kissed and kissed him. His mouth. His cheeks. His beautiful eyes. All over his beloved face. “I am not her, my love!” She cried, tears running down her face, smearing his. “I am not her! I shall never be discontented with you.  You are everything to me! I will never forsake you! Never!”

“It must have been my fault,” he whispered. “I n-neglected her…”

“No! It was her fault! It was her fault!” She said it over and over, kissing him everywhere she could reach him. “Not yours. Never yours!”

“You will grow tired of me,” he whispered. “I may fall ill, or grow older, and not be able to please you so. You will be shackled to me when you should be free to be young, with a husband young enough to love you fully…”

“I don’t need that! I need you!! I don’t care how old you are or how young! God, William! If you only knew what was in my heart you would never question again!”

“I can’t give you children!”

“I don’t need children, my love! Only you. Only yours. If they are not forthcoming, so be it. I am content.”

He pulled her into his arms and they rolled together on the bed.

“Here or at home, it seems impossible for us to ever truly be together,” he said, smiling sadly into her eyes. “There is so much to divide us. Perhaps we should accept the inevitable.”

“That you will be my husband, and damnation to them all? Is that what you mean by accepting the inevitable?” Her eyes sparkled mischievously.  "Because that is all I am willing to accept."

He laughed, and Victoria was pleased that his smile grew wider.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your tenacity, Ma’am?”

“No. But thank you. My darling Lord M. You also should accept the inevitable. You are mine. And you cannot rid yourself of me now.”

He huffed a laugh.  “Do you imagine I want to rid myself of you, Ma’am?”

“Sometimes.” She stroked his arm. “But I shall not allow you to.”

He chuckled, stroked her cheek. “Well then. I suppose I shall have to resign myself to my fate.”

“Indeed you must.”

“I suppose this means I’ll be getting very little sleep in future.”

“You have never liked sleep anyway.”

“True. But for some reason I find myself a great deal more fatigued of late.”

“Why is that, do you think?” She traced his shoulder over to his collarbone, drawing her fingers idly along its length.

“Probably it is due to the rambunctious little minx who has taken up residence in my bed.”

“Sounds very troublesome.”

“Oh she is. She is never satisfied.”

“Never?”

“Never. The more I try to assuage her, the more demanding she becomes.”

“Perhaps you are too good at assuaging her.”

“Do you think that’s it?”

“Undoubtedly. You have likely given her an insatiable appetite for such appeasements.”

“Is that where I’ve gone wrong?” His hand was on her bottom, so warm she shivered. He squeezed.

“Definitely.”

“So I should have done less to please her, is that it?” He patted her rump for emphasis.

“If you value your sleep most.”

“Well. I don’t.” He nuzzled her nose with his.

“Then I suppose you must learn to live without sleep.”

“I suppose I must.” He smiled again. “I could learn to live without anything. Except you.”

She took his face in her hands and kissed him. “As can I. You are the very air I breathe.”

“As are you to me. Ma’am.”

“I thought I’d lost you tonight. I was so scared.”

His eyes found hers. “My dearest girl. Nothing you can ever say or do could ever change the fact I love you. That I shall always and forever. You cannot lose me.  Only push me away.”

“I never wish to do that. I never want to see such pain in your eyes again, and know that I am the cause.”

He smiled. “Well. If you do ever cause me pain, I think we have found a cure.”

She giggled.

“In fact, I think I could find pain of any kind entirely more tolerable, if I knew I had this to look forward afterward.” He twiddled his eyebrows at her.

“Really, Lord M!” She giggled. “You are shameless.”

“Entirely. I would do anything for such a gift from you again.” He nuzzled her again.

“Pain is not necessary. All you have to do my love, is ask.” She leaned up and kissed him.

“God, how I adore you. I cannot believe what you just did,” he grinned.  "I shall be glowing from this for months, I have no doubt."

“Well. If it feels half as good to you as it does to me when you give me similar treatment, than I am satisfied.”

“You have succeeded beyond your wildest dreams, I assure you. Beyond even my wildest dreams.”

“As have you.”

He smiled so sweetly at her then, and kissed her softly. “It’s incredible, you know. I’ve had more wild, erotic sex with you than I have with probably all my former lovers together. And I cannot ever get enough. I want you again already.”

“And I never stop wanting you.” She sighed, caressing his face with her fingertips. “You touch me and I feel it in my heart as well as on my skin. I crave your hands on my body. Your cock inside of me.”

“God to hear you say that to me!” he whispered hoarsely, and kissed her hard.

“Its true,” she said as his lips found her cheek, her jaw, her throat. “So true. No other man will ever do for me.  It must be you.  Only ever you.”

“As it is you for me.  We are one, you and I. No matter what happens now, nothing will ever change that.”

“No. Nothing ever will.”

Now. No more regret between us, hm? What’s done is done, and all forgiven.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Come here my love,” he lay down and pulled her close. “Let me hold you as we sleep. For I need your touch…your body tonight.”

She lay down happily and let him gather her against him, sighing. “I used to dream about this,” she said. “Just this. Nothing more. Curling up beside you to sleep. Holding you, or sometimes you holding me. Sometimes I would hold my pillow and pretend it was you. I would go to sleep with such a sense of peace and security on those nights when I imagined your arms around me.”

He huffed a breath of laughter into her hair. “Whereas I fell asleep in my chair after an entire decanter of brandy, lusting after you quite shamefully—Ma’am.”

“Well. Had I known about such things at the time I am sure I would have joined you in that.”

“As you do now.”

“Yes,” she snuggled closer. “I cannot imagine sleeping without you now.”

“If I have my wish, my love, you never will have to.” He kissed the top of her head sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who like soundtracks, and like to know what the author listens to as she writes, here's an instrumental addition that works well for this chapter: https://youtu.be/AC5OYlzltbM
> 
> The song is called, "Farewell to Coolmain", and it is by artist David Arkenstone. I love all of his work so much. This is a hauntingly beautiful Celtic instrumental that is so sweet and so full of yearning it works well for Victoria and Lord Melbourne. Enjoy!


	36. Chapter 36--Find Your Way Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and Lord M begin to make preparations for their secret flight from Whitehall Palace. Meanwhile Elizabeth has proclaimed there is to be a masked ball--a costume ball--that William and Victoria must attend, despite a growing sense of unease, particularly regarding the ball itself...
> 
> *Mild heat warning in effect. Not a raging inferno like the previous chapters, but nevertheless, still may be NSFW.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You know, it's been a long, long road  
> Since I packed up and left on my own  
> And I carry a heavy load  
> Just trying get back to the heart...
> 
> (You got no place to be  
> Still you wonder where you're going)  
> And why I had to leave  
> I hear a voice, it says to me
> 
> Find your way back…
> 
> I know it's too late now  
> But, I wish I could go back in time  
> And start all over somehow  
> And get it right from the start
> 
> Find your way back…”  
> (Jefferson Starship, 1981).

Chapter 36—Find Your Way Back

 

There was to be a masked ball.

“You’re just now telling me this?” Victoria said, surprised as they sat together the next morning, munching their breakfast companionably before their own shared hearth. William himself had received a most welcomed message that said due to affairs of state, the Queen would not be needing him until after the morning’s Court. On the strength of this news, Victoria had pleaded a headache and excused herself from Elizabeth’s levee.

So out of nowhere, they had been granted a little time together.

“Yes well, in all the excitement of last night, My Love, I rather forgot to mention it,” William said buttering a piece of bread and giving her a knowing smile. “But it is to be a costume ball as well. Everyone is to come in fancy dress. Apparently this is part of Elizabeth’s ‘surprise’ for me upon my recovery. Although I have to say, I enjoyed your surprise far more than I ever will enjoy hers.” He twiddled his eyebrows at her and popped the bread into his mouth with a smile.

She gave him a wry smile of her own.  "Perhaps not all of last night was a pleasant surprise."

"No.  But it ended most satisfactorily, I must say."

She smiled.  "I'm glad for that at least."

"As of the rest, it is forgotten.  Think no more on it.  I do not."  His eyes ravished her.  "Why should I, when there are so much more pleasant things to ruminate over?"

"You are quite incorrigible this morning!"  She said with a surprised laugh.  “A masked ball, you said? And a costumed one as well? Whatever shall we go as, Lord M?” She said, nibbling at her apple, secretly very pleased and somewhat surprised at the unusually playful mood he was in today. Truly her experiment of the night before had been an undeniable success. William had not stopped smiling for the whole of the morning.

“How about a beautiful future queen and her Prime Minister, who lusts shamefully after her?” He said, his expression droll as he regarded her with darkened eyes over his mug of ale.

“A Prime Minister who is astonishingly handsome and who leaves his queen weak at the knees with his smile?” She said, taking another bite of her apple.

“We could pretend to be in love with each other.”

“You could push me into dark corners at odd moments and kiss me shamefully.”

“And you could flirt outrageously with me as we dance.”

“And I could be a very demanding queen indeed, and keep you by my side all evening.”

“And I would have no choice but to oblige you.”

“Of course you should. And I think you should wear a top hat and blue velvet coat.”

“Should I indeed?  Perhaps I shall, if you wear blue as well, and wear my orchids as your corsage.”

“If you also wear a green cravat and waistcoat.”

His eyebrows shot up as he took another slice of bread and began to butter it. “Your request is very specific, Cousin.  Any particular reason why?”

“Because you always look so handsome in green.  And because it quite brings out the green of your eyes. As if you did not know.” She gave him a knowing smile.

“Are my eyes so very green?” He said, affecting a look of mock innocence. “I didn’t realize that.”

“Oh do stop, Lord M! Of course they are. Very green indeed. And quite beautiful. As you are well aware! For you dress often enough to emphasize the fact.”

“Well. Perhaps I was aware that your eyes rested more often on mine when I wore certain colors, and that you seemed to compliment me every time I wore them.” He raised his eyebrows at her as he reached for the small pot of jam.

“Did I? I didn’t realize I did that!”

“Every time,” he whispered, still smiling. “You were most helpful, Ma’am, in instructing me what to wear to please you most. For I liked the way your eyes rested on me when I wore those colors, you see. And when I had the occasion to order new clothes I made sure I included them. Green, and claret red were among your favorites. And then perhaps blue I think.”

“And you wear those colors now—here as well. Is that for my benefit too, Lord M?”

“Always. As is everything I do. For your benefit. And to please you. Am I successful, then?” He passed the bread with jam to her, holding it before her mouth and bidding her take a bite.

“Do you even have to ask me that?” She asked, taking the bite.

“Perhaps I just like to hear it.” He said with a smile.

“Then yes, you are.”

“And you, I have observed, wear a great deal of blue. Is that because I have observed to you in the past that I think blue brings out the color of your eyes, Ma’am?”

“Perhaps I like the way your eyes rest on me when I wear it,” she said softly.

He popped a bite of cheese into his mouth, sighing dramatically. “I don’t know, Ma’am, about this scheme of yours to go as lovers. I’ve never been much of one for acting, you see. It seems like it would be exceedingly difficult to pretend we are such with any degree of verisimilitude.”

“You—!” she reached across and slapped his shoulder playfully. “It isn’t my scheme at all! It was you who suggested it! Of all the—” she squeaked and struggled against him as suddenly he captured her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her onto his lap.

“Well,” he continued nonplussed, holding her as she squirmed, “If you are so determined to go as lovers, I suppose I shall have to indulge you,” he said with a martyr’s sigh. “Again. No matter the hardship in pretending to be so.” He planted a kiss square on her lips as she squealed in indignation.

“Is this what I have to look forward to when we are married?  Such violations upon my person?” Victoria said in mock indignation as he released her. “Whatever has got into you this morning?”

“Mmm, well. Perhaps it is not what has got into me, as much as it is the reverse of that statement.” He gave her a long smoldering look.

She arched an eyebrow, amused. “Was it really as good as all that?”

“I did tell you, did I not, that I would probably be glowing for weeks due to your expert ministrations, Ma’am.”

“Expert?”

“Oh very, very expert. Yes indeed.” He leaned back and regarded her with a cherub's smile, through half-lidded eyes.

“And you are an expert yourself, no doubt, in judging such matters,” she said suddenly.  A spike of pain shot through her so acute that she gasped.  Where on earth had that come from?  She asked herself, surprised. After all, she knew, didn’t she, that he had had a life before her? A life filled with many, many lovers, undoubtedly. And a wife.  She was not so foolish as to be jealous of his past.  Was she?

Something of what she suddenly felt must have shown on her face. His gaze sharpened and he was on his feet before her, his hands clasped firmly but gently on her arms, searching her eyes.

“Victoria?”

He had the loveliest eyes she’d ever seen. Glowing golden green where the morning light kissed them, and fringed with those luxurious lashes he regarded her with alarm, concern. She could drown in his eyes. Happily.

How many other women had felt the same?

He raised her chin and made her look at him, his eyes tender as he regarded her. “I love only you.”  He bent his head and kissed her sweetly.

She let him kiss her, let his lips ply from hers the awful pain, the insecurity that had suddenly sprung to life in her heart.

"There is no need to fear the past.  My Darling, I am entirely yours."

“I know,” she said. “I am sorry, William. It is…foolish. I don’t know why…”

“We have shared a great deal of ourselves with each other, that is why,” he pulled her into his arms, petting her, soothing her. As always, making everything unpleasant drift away. “It is not foolish. It is natural. But my darling, you have nothing to fear from them. No one. No one past or present or future can ever come between us.  There is no room for anyone in my heart but you.”

“I sometimes feel so very gauche. So ignorant and inelegant compared to the women you must have known.”

“You are not any of those things…Ma'am.” He said, smiling into her eyes. “You, after all, are a Queen. The granddaughter of a king. It is I who am but a lowly Viscount. Of the two of us, I am the one who is gauche.”

“You will never be a lowly Viscount again,” she said, cheek against his heart. “For when we return I shall make you a Duke to start with. And then when we are married, you shall be Prince Consort.”

He laughed. “Well. There might be objections, you know. I wonder how Sir Robert Peel, and your uncle Cumberland, for instance, would take to that news. To say nothing of your Uncle Leopold and the Duchess of Kent.”

“I don’t care how any of them take to it! They shall adjust themselves to my wishes and that will be an end to it! It shall be the first official duty I shall undertake upon our return.”

“I shall have to resign as your Prime Minister.”

“And embark upon a new career…as my husband.”

He raised her chin, forcing her eyes up to his. They were glowing, golden green in the morning’s light. And solemn. He blinked owlishly at her. Once. Twice.

“I should love nothing better in all the world,” he whispered solemnly.

“Do I take that as a yes, Lord M?" She smiled.

He stroked her face softly. “Yes,” he whispered. “In any century we happen to be in, yes.”

* * *

William sighed, pulling her into his arms. There were few pleasures in life so complete as simply holding Victoria. He adored the way she relaxed against him, as if knowing he would take care of everything. The absolute trust she placed in him. The way she needed him. As a queen needs a trusted adviser.  As a woman needs her husband.  It was ludicrous, all of it.  But ludicrous or not, he would not lose her now.  He would not share her.  They would be married, come what may.  In this century or any other.  The only question that remained was how and when.

“If only you could just marry me now,” she said, nuzzling against him. “This very instant.”

He chuckled lightly. “How I do love hearing you say that,” he said, placing a kiss in her hair. “It will never do, you know. If you carry on like this, I shall become even more arrogant than Robert Dudley.”

“You could never be so,” she said, arms circling him. “It is not your nature.”

“Have I not told you how susceptible I am to flattery?” He said softly, teasing. “I believe it to be a weakness of every man, Ma’am, especially when it comes to his lady. For she has far more power over his pride and well-being than she often realizes.”

“I should love to be your lady,” she said, propping her chin on his breastbone and raising her eyes to his. “I should adore looking after you. Seeing that you are happy.”

“Oh, I think you’d find me very easy to please. At least for you.”

“Oh? How so?”

“All that I would require to make me absolutely happy,” he said, drawing his hand up her neck, wrapping around it softly, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Would be to have you take up permanent residence in my bed. Wholly and entirely naked.”

She laughed, white teeth sparkling like pearls. The music of her laughter ringing through his mind. Wrapping around his heart.

“Really?! How long would you have me wait upon you there?”

“Forever,” he said. Her skin was so soft beneath his palm. Her eyes as brilliant and clear as the sky. “Forever and ever.” He leaned in and kissed her. "I want you in my bed forever."

She sighed against him, still fizzing with laughter. But the wish was a sincere one, no matter how impractical.  It truly was all he wanted. Her. Him. Naked and making love. And the rest of the world could go to the very devil for all he cared.

He broke away with reluctance and smiled into her eyes.

She took his hand in hers and kissed his palm. He held his breath, remembering the day before.

“I want to leave this place,” she whispered, cradling her cheek against his hand, her eyes suddenly serious. “Oh William, can we not leave? I am so afraid.”

He exhaled, stroking her cheek softly. “We cannot simply walk away from Elizabeth’s court without permission, my love. We would be for all intents and purposes, fugitives. Presumed spies. Our lives would be forfeit the moment we were found.”

“We can go to Scotland. Live in a cave by the sea. Catch fish and cook them for our supper, with summer grasses for our bed. No one will find us! They’ll give up looking! I do not care how and where we live! So long as we are together and alone!”

“Above all else, we cannot go to Scotland! Surely you recognize the danger of that! Remember the Queen’s greatest rival is Mary, Queen of Scots. Who at this time, still lives.”

Victoria huffed out her frustration. “No. Upon no account shall we ever go to another place ruled by a Queen. For you, my darling, are far too irresistible, and I cannot bear this again!”

His eyebrows shot up and he huffed a laugh. “Just because you find me handsome…”

“And Elizabeth!”

He had to concede with a shake of his head. “One day rather soon, I hope to be safe enough to sit back, have a brandy in comfortable circumstances, if not my own Hall, and laugh until I cry. The absurdity of it all! What in the world…!” He huffed a laugh again. “Truly…that you love me, is remarkable enough and a phenomena I am loathe to question or even point out might be considered folly, when you could have your pick of young, strong, handsome men. Princes at that. But that she—?” He shook his head. “How in the world have I gone from being a scandal-ridden, cuckolded old husband—a laughing stock of all of society—to being the Queen’s favorite?”

“I for my own part cannot possibly comprehend your wife’s actions. What woman blessed enough to have your love and you for a husband, could do such a thing?!”

His eyebrows lifted. “Well. I can only say how glad I am that you’ve never met Lord Byron, Ma’am.”

“I should _not_ like him, I can assure you.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He and Robert Dudley have much in common, I should think.”

“I do not care for Robert Dudley either. I have the man I want right here.” She turned her face into his hand again and kissed his palm.

“Dear God Victoria. Do you not know what it does to me for you to kiss my hand like this? After yesterday? I shall never again be able to bear that in any other context. Take care you never do that in public. I shall mortify us both by moaning shamefully.”

She smiled up at him. “I rather enjoyed it too.”

He kissed her again.

“Take me away from this place,” she whispered again. “Please.”

“I have already been thinking of it,” he said, settling her back against him and wrapping his arms around her defensively. “I fear it must be soon. But it will take a little time to put a plan in place. A fortnight longer, and I think I shall be able to manage our escape with a reasonable modicum of success.”

“A fortnight? But I’m so afraid! Of her! Of him! They’ll take us away from each other before we can leave! I know they shall! Oh, please it must be soon!”

“It shall be,” he said, holding her close. “As soon as it can be managed. In the meantime, we must continue on as we have done. Courage, my love. Only a fortnight more, and all will be arranged.”

* * *

It was eventually decided that they should go to the masked ball as lovers—secretly--and preparations for the masque, and their eventual flight, were underway by the following day.

Even William had been given leave from the Queen’s side to facilitate the ordering of their costumes—time he put to good effect for their other purposes. As it was necessary for him to venture into town to arrange for his preparations for the ball, he had successfully used his time there on the following day to purchase two horses, with all necessary accoutrements to assist them on their journey to freedom.

“Moreover,” he told her that night, “I have spied a chapel not but a half hours’ ride from here. I spoke with the parson there today. A capital fellow, and very agreeable. Especially when presented with a small offering.”

“Do you think he might marry us?” She asked, breathlessly.

“He might. Were the sum right. I shall stop by again there in a few days’ time perhaps to offer prayers, and more offerings. Then when the time comes, he may be prepared to help us.”

These arrangements pleased Victoria, brought her some measure of peace. And she quite liked her mount--a dainty gray palfrey she called Agnes. Lord M had procured for himself a magnificent line-back dun stallion that he named Dash, in honor of Victoria’s lost companion, who was well tempered and well formed enough to facilitate the riding of long distances, should the need arise. 

The week continued to be an unusual one.  Elizabeth had found herself quite busy with state affairs for two and three days in a row, and as such called for William but rarely to attend her until late afternoon.  So they even managed to find time to ride out together the next two mornings, through the woods beyond Whitehall, where William thought their best escape route might lay. But as the week waned on, Elizabeth once again began to call for William early, and so Victoria had been left quite on her own again to get better acquainted with Agnes. But she found that riding every afternoon pleased her greatly, and made her feel almost quite like her old self again.

When it came time to order her costume, Victoria’s seamstress was highly shocked at the sketch she was presented with for her gown for the costume ball, though less so by the order of a serviceable riding habit and new gray cloak. Victoria had not really been prepared for the fact that the long, narrow and--by the standards Elizabeth’s time, shocking--lines of a Regency-era gown would cause her seamstress a near apoplexy. Therefore, she’d opted to give it a slight Grecian flare as well.  With this addition, her seamstress was resigned, and on the grounds of it being a Classical recreation, agreed to produce a dress to Victoria's specifications, though with much clucking and shaking of her head.

William, having actually lived through the era in question, gave exacting instructions to his tailor, who also left shaking his head at the odd garments he had been requested to manufacture. William himself though, was pleased. He’d even gone the extra step of ordering himself a new top hat, as Victoria had requested, for the occasion, along with some less sumptuous, more discreet garments for their eventual flight as well.

Due in part to the oddity of their costumes, three further fittings were required before their fancy dress was in readiness, and it took the whole of the sennight that Elizabeth had allotted for the preparations. But when the night of the masque had arrived, and they met each other in their common rooms dressed in their Regency finery, Victoria and William stood awhile without speaking, gazing at one another.

“Lord M,” Victoria said. And this time it was not a teasing or scandalous remark, but a recognition and a remembrance. For he looked so much himself now that he was back in almost familiar attire that it took her by surprise.

“Ma’am,” he whispered, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “I must say…you wear it well.”

“Thank you,” she replied simply. “When Elizabeth sees you like this, she’s liable to propose marriage to you on the spot,” she said, trying to sound flippant, and failing. “For you look so very…handsome. You quite steal my breath away.”

Indeed he did. Black breeches to the knee, tall riding boots below. His waistcoat and cravat were in fact her favorite dark bottle green, and his frock coat a sober dark gray. His top hat, as ever, was perfection. And his mask made of dark-plumed feathers tipped with iridescent shades of blue and green and red only set off his startling green eyes to more dramatic effect than ever. She could scarce draw breath he was so magnificent.

“So I shall not shame you then...Cousin?” He asked, eyes twinkling.

“No,” she said, her voice a whimper. “You are…the most handsome man I have ever known. No matter the century.”

His eyes brimmed with warmth and pleasure as he gazed at her, mouth quirked up a little on one side. Then he bent and kissed her.

“I love you,” he whispered, “My darling…Marianne.”

“And I love you,” she returned, “My dashing Colonel Brandon.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her hard. “Hell’s teeth, all I want is to have you. Here. Now!” He growled against her mouth, kissed her again, hands rucking up her dress.

“No! We mustn’t! We’re due to appear soon!”

“This won’t take long,” he whispered. “Please…don’t send me in there wanting you like this. I fear I will do something even more rash and foolish than punching Dudley in the face.”

He backed her against an obliging table and sat her down upon it. Victoria squeaked as his fingers found their way between her legs. She gasped. Oh how she wanted him, too!

His mouth landed hot on hers, and Victoria melted into his touch.

“William!” She breathed as his strong, dexterous fingers worked against her, his touch so perfect.  He knew her so well.  Knew what she needed.  What she loved.  She moaned against him.  Who cares if they even made it to the ball at all? 

He purred against her mouth. “Bloody hellfire. I think I’ll wear green for the rest of my life. You’re so wet I can hardly hold onto you.”

"William!"  She whimpered against his mouth, helpless now to stop him.  “Please,” she stammered. “I need you. All of you!”

He hurried to comply, making a few necessary adjustments to his costume and then—

They both gasped.

There was something so necessary about this. It was as if seeing each other this way had brought them back to themselves—to the way they used to be. This act…this desperate joining…was their promise to each other. In this century or any other—they belonged to each other. Heart. Soul. Body.

They both climaxed together, hard and shuddering and long. When it was over he lay his head against her shoulder, breathing hard.

“Bloody, _bloody_ hell! What you do to me!” He whispered.

“And you to me. I hope our costumes are none worse for the wear. Explanations might be…awkward.”

He huffed a laugh, a puff of hot air against her shoulder.

“I told you this dress would be trouble.” He said, caressing her sides lightly. “Strewth, did you have to make it in blue, as well? How the devil will I keep my hands off of you tonight?” His mouth opened, hot and possessive against her skin. “I will be shadowing you all evening. And Elizabeth will have me beheaded because I cannot stay away from you.”

“I am entirely yours. There is no reason to worry about him anymore.” she said softly, fingering his curls. “You do not need to shadow me.”

He sighed. “I know. And yet, I do. I don’t know why but I feel so…”

“Frightened?” Victoria finished. “Yes, I feel it too.”

“Elizabeth is planning something. Something more than this masque. She’s been giddy and mysterious about it all week. Something is wrong.” He tightened his grip on her. “Dear God, Victoria! I don’t think I can bear this night. I truly do not. I have the maddest impulse to toss you over my shoulder and make off for the stables.” He pulled her tightly against him and Victoria sighed in his arms. Once again dressed in clothing so much like their own time, she felt she indeed had her Lord M back. And she was as loathe to part from him as he from her.

“I wish you could,” she said simply. “Nothing would please me more.”

His eyes met hers, wide and green and so tender that she felt suddenly as if she were looking at a much younger version of her beloved man. “I love you, my darling girl. More than I thought it possible for me to ever love another.  It seems that it is wrong for me to do so, in whatever century we find ourselves in, but I cannot help myself. You draw me, your humble moth to your glorious flame. And I cannot but obey. Even if it means my own destruction.” His lips claimed hers then, and she returned his kiss with everything she had in her heart.

Memories flooded her as they kissed. The first time they met. His never ending gallantry. His constant, unflagging support. His stalwart defense of her. His steadfast presence in her life, his council, his kind indulgence of her girlish whims. Prime Minister. Private Secretary. Trusted adviser. Dear, dear friend. And finally--inevitably, and at long last--lover. He released her, and her fingers traced his lips as she drew in a shuddering gasp. “You are everything to me,” she whispered. “I cannot ever conceive of being without you.”

His eyes misted, and his lips quirked up in a sad smile. “Nor I you.” He kissed her again, slowly and sweetly, and his kiss was life against her lips, the very air she breathed. When he again broke the kiss, she mewed in discontent. She wanted to stay here, wrapped around her William, her Lord M, feeling him inside of her forever. But his kiss was benediction, and he pulled out of her at last, leaving her trembling, feeling cold and bereft and hollow without him.

His eyes told her he felt the same loss. He drew in a shuddering breath. Then, with a playful quirk of his eyebrows and a wry smile, touched her cheek briefly. “Well. I suppose we shall have to brazen it out, after all. But first, I think we need to freshen up.”

“Agreed,” she said with a sigh of regret. “Though with the exception of one place, Lord M, you seem most remarkably fresh already.”

He huffed a laugh. Yes, well, so do you. Though I did my damnedest to completely dishevel you.”

They took a few minutes to return to their rooms to complete their necessary ablutions. They returned together, both looking remarkably unscathed, considering their previous activities.

He met her with another kiss.

“You are so naughty,” she giggled against him.

“And I want to be again. God in heaven, you are irresistible tonight.”

“Colonel Brandon would never do such a thing to Marianne Dashwood,” Victoria giggled.

“Oh, I daresay the thought crossed his mind more than once before their marriage, Ma’am. No matter how gentlemanly he appeared on the surface. Marianne Dashwood was rather beautiful I believe. And he was a man who had been quite on his own for a very long time.”

“Yes indeed. And though Marianne is generally accepted to be Sensibility to her sister Elinor’s Sense, I would go so far as to say Colonel Brandon was perhaps even of a more romantic nature than Marianne.”

“In temperament, perhaps, but age and experience tend to transform sensibility into sense. One way or another.”

“Nevertheless. I believe they shared that romantic nature. And that was the one thing about Marianne that called to him.”

“I believe he also had endured great heartache in the past.”

“For which he had been mourning for a great deal of his life, prior to meeting her.”

“So into his melancholy and lonely existence enters this bright, fresh little sunbeam. This rainbow of a woman, as yet unspoilt by the hardships of life. Bright of eye and full of dreams.” He smiled gently at her.

“And he fell for her.”

“Immediately. And permanently. Though at first she did not desire his attentions.”

"But she came to her senses soon enough.  And not before time."

"It took her a great deal of time to recognize his worth."

"Yes.  Too long.  For he was perfect from the start."

"Well.  He was independent.  Self sufficient and established.  Unlike Willoughby, who was a young pup on the making."

"Willoughby got what he deserved," she said with vehemence.

"Indeed.  A woman with a large fortune," he snorted derisively.

"And the knowledge that he lost his true love because of his own debauchery.  Do not forget that."

"Whereas Colonel Brandon's virtue and patience is rewarded," he said with a smile.

"Jane Austen was a wise woman I believe.”

“Certainly an imaginative one, Ma’am.”

“No. An observant one. And a wise.”

"She had a notion that things always work out the way they should, which is admirable, however false."

"It wasn't a notion.  It was a desire.  For I believe she knew things didn't always work out for the best quite well."

"Well.  I certainly hope it does in this case."

"We shall do more than hope, William.  We shall make it so."

“Of course, we will have to give another explanation for our costumes tonight. I daresay Her Majesty will not appreciate the true story of Colonel Brandon and Marianne as much as we do.”

“No indeed. I look forward to whatever you come up with.” She sidled up to him, caressing one lapel of his frock coat. “And I look forward to whatever you come up with later tonight, even more so.”

“Mmmm…what a delicious thought indeed.”

“Evidently.” She looked at him pointedly.

He laughed and twiddled his eyebrows at her. “Well. It’s been the whole of five minutes, after all. I suppose he is feeling rather neglected.”

She bit her lip. “He, William?"  She laughed.  "Oh well, but what I wouldn’t give to stay and attend— _him_.”

“Dear God, Ma’am, that’s not helping!” He closed his eyes with a sigh.

“Is it not? Oh dear. Well, maybe this will?”

He shuddered as her hand landed on him, pressing through the fall of his breeches. He let out a moan.

“Surely we have another few minutes before we are missed?” She whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could not resist.
> 
> Turning them into Colonel Brandon and Marianne Dashwood of Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility just had so many delicious parallels on so many levels. And it has to be said, dear readers, that the author was particularly fond of the movie adaption starring Alan Rickman as the dashing Colonel Brandon, which remains to this day, the author's favorite of his many roles. Lord M's choice of color for his fancy dress suit pays a bit of homage to the sober dress of Brandon throughout most of the film, but with a dash of his own style with the beautiful bottle green highlights. 
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your comments!


	37. Chapter 37--We Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William and Victoria reluctantly attend the masque and discover the full extent of Elizabeth's surprise.
> 
> Hold on to your hat, Dear Reader, and buckle up. This is where the ride starts to get bumpy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Close your eyes and try to sleep now  
> Close your eyes and try to dream  
> Clear your mind and do your best  
> To try and wash the palette clean
> 
> We can't begin to know it  
> How much we really care  
> I hear your voice inside me  
> I see your face everywhere  
> Still you say
> 
> We belong to the light,  
> We belong to the thunder  
> We belong to the sound of the words  
> We've both fallen under
> 
> Whatever we deny or embrace,  
> For worse or for better  
> We belong,  
> We belong, we belong together…”  
> (Pat Benatar, 1984).

Chapter 37—We Belong

Mercifully enough, their attire was no worse for the wear by the time William led Victoria out of their apartments. It was a very near thing too, he reflected as he gazed upon her. She was so beautiful tonight in her pale blue Regency gown. It was simple and clean in lines, with gossamer layers of white and blue overlaying the main gown and falling in graceful layers like the petals of a flower. A ribbon sash of deepest blue formed a bow at the empire waistline, it’s tails trailing down almost to the hemline. The lace-trimmed sleeves were short and puffed to allow for her to wear long white gloves that rose over her elbows nearly to meet the sleeve, and over her shoulders she had draped a long shawl made of fine, thin silk and trimmed in lace that, when laid across her shoulders and wrapped about her arms, added a Classical touch to her Regency look.

Across her face, her mask was all white feathers that fanned her eyes and made her look like a rather innocent little dove, and her dark tresses were topped by a large white plume.

Dear God, he wanted her. It didn’t matter how many times he had her, or how recently. His appetite where she was concerned was bottomless. No sooner was he out of her than he wanted to be back inside again, with the same intensity as before. His body still tingled pleasantly with the after-effects of their latest encounter, but his cock was already stirring. _Again._ Hungry, greedy little bastard that it was, it never got enough of her.  And tonight was worse than usual.

If only it were that simple, he thought. If only she were his wife at last, he could give way to his endless urges for her without the bloody interference of all and sundry. To be done with this appalling, ridiculous subterfuge forever and ever. To be able to claim her, quite openly, and not have to suffer through the advances on her by other men, and endless flirtations visited upon himself by other women. It was maddening. And quite frankly, his patience with the whole farce of it was wearing perilously thin.

He loved her.  By God, how he loved her!  More than his next breath.  And he wanted her. And she him. Why the devil was it so impossible for them to be together?  In two different time periods?

And now he was about to lead her into a room where they would be separated. Again. Her to be…pawed and fawned over by that— _fop_ —Robert Dudley, and God only knew what other men, dressed as she was. And himself by Elizabeth Tudor. Once again, he thought how he should have liked to laugh heartily over the absurdity of their situation, were it not so grave.

Oh, but more than that, how he wanted to simply back his sweet girl into a dark corner and forget this ridiculous masque altogether! Perhaps he should, he reflected darkly. His instincts tonight almost begged him to feign sickness or something—anything—rather than submit to more of this folly. There was something in the air he couldn’t quite name, but it tasted of danger. All his senses were on alert. The very hairs on the back of his neck, his arms, were prickling with the sensation of it.  Perhaps it was this agitation of his instincts that made him crave her more than usual. Creating this almost primal need to drive himself deep inside of her, to claim what was rightfully his. To shut out the world and pretend none of it existed. To run away with her somewhere out of reach of both this century and their own—somewhere they could finally just be together. Alone and unhindered by all the madness that perpetually swirled around them.

Surely such a simple thing was not too much to ask?

Her hand on his arm gripped him tightly, and he moved to pat her hand, to offer what reassurance he could. His poor, brave little queen. She felt his eyes on her and looked up and smiled, a little uncertainly. He smiled in return, and was pleased to see an infusion of confidence swell in her as a response. Yes, they at least had each other, he thought. Each of them drawing courage, love, and support from the other.  Alone, neither of them would have survived the madness of being hurled into this god-forsaken century.  If he ever found his way home, William might seriously reconsider his penchant for history.  It was all very well in its place, when he was sitting comfortably in his favorite chair in the library at Brocket,  wrapped in his favorite dressing gown and with his favorite slippers on his feet as they lay propped before a cozy fire, a brandy in one hand and a book in the other, reading about what had gone before.  But to experience it first hand was something different entirely.  And far less pleasant. 

He looked again at Victoria.  God in heaven, but she was brave.  So young.  So exquisitely small.  But in her slight frame beat the heart of a lioness.  She truly was every inch a queen.  And every inch of her he worshiped.  He adored.  His heart fit to burst in his chest from the pride he felt in her, the strength of the love he bore her.  He swallowed hard, and blinked back the tears that threatened in his eyes. 

No. He could not allow this century to tear them asunder. No matter what transpired tonight.  His own needs aside, she needed him. And she was his one and only, his true Queen.  Therefore he had a duty to remain by her side until such a time as he could manage to get them home again, manage to return her somehow to her rightful place. Or if such a thing were not possible, than he must remain by her side until whatever end found them both, and death itself divided them.  He owed her that much.  That much, and so much more.

When they arrived at the banquet hall, the revel was already underway. Music, laughter, and conversation floated out to meet them. He turned to her, clasping her hands tightly in his own.  But he was unsure of who needed or derived the most comfort from the gesture. 

“You look so lovely tonight, Cousin,” he breathed, kissing her fingers lightly, willing himself not to cry.

“As do you, Cousin.” She returned softly. “I shall miss you tonight.”

“And I you.”

He gave her hands a final press, and released them. She placed her hand on his elbow again, squeezing his arm lightly, but enough for him to feel her hesitance, her desire to run away with him, and not go through with this charade tonight. He patted her again. _Courage my love,_ he said with his eyes. _Courage for a little while longer, then we can be together again._

 _Yes.  I cannot wait._ Her eyes replied.  Then she took a deep breath, and they entered the hall.

Everything came to an abrupt halt as they entered the room. Then as one, the entirety of Elizabeth’s court turned to look at them.

Viscount Lord Melbourne, Second of that title, walked forward, hearing his boots echo on the marble of Whitehall Palace’s banquet hall, feeling at once more at ease in his own clothing than he had in a long time, and at the same time, more awkward, as Elizabeth Tudor’s court took in their Regency attire.

The first man he passed had his eyes glued to Victoria’s body, and his blood boiled. To them, it would look like a night shift. So straight and so thin a gown, compared to the enormous bulk and rigid structure of the Tudor-era fashions was positively risque. Every man in this room would be undressing her with his eyes. Giving her lascivious glances. God in heaven, what had he been thinking?  His free hand curled into a fist, he had to fight with himself to keep walking, and not wrap her in his frock coat, toss her over his shoulder and run from the room.

A very feminine gasp, followed by an airy giggle, drifted down to him from the Queen’s dais.  He groaned inwardly and schooled his features into a pleasant mask of welcome.

“Why! What have we here? Who could this be who has come among us?” He raised his eyes to see Elizabeth Tudor, dressed in a gown that was obviously meant to echo Ancient Greece, albeit still in a Tudor silhouette, descended toward them. It was dazzlingly white, almost blindingly so, dripping and winking in diamonds with a belt and trimmings of gold, her own eyes trimmed with mask made of leather and gold and diamonds that set off her coloring to perfection. “Could this be Our Lamb? And the Viscountess?”

“No indeed, Your Majesty,” he said with a bow. “For this is Marianne Dashwood, you see, and I myself am called Colonel Brandon.”

A murmur went around the room.

“Such…curious costumes,” the Queen said as she approached, eyes taking him in from his top hat to the tips of his boots, and then examining Victoria. “We have never heard of a Colonel Brandon, or a Marianne Dashwood before. Pray, we would have their story.”

“Yes. Well,” he began, clearing his throat and praying for inspiration. “You see, it is a very old Prussian fairy tale, Your Majesty. Colonel Brandon had a…niece…called Marianne Dashwood. And she was a terribly romantic soul, and quite loved to be among the trees, and the birds of the forest. Often she would walk among them, and sing to the spirits that lived in the trees. And so one day, the king of the fairies was out walking incognito, and saw Marianne, and became enamored of her. So he put a spell on her to cause her to sleep, and carried her far away, to his own land. There, he decided to make her his wife."

He heard a delicate cough from Victoria.  She was enjoying this, the little minx.  He made a mental note to pay her back measure for measure upon the subject later, and continued uninterrupted.

“Meanwhile, her uncle, Colonel Brandon, had been away at war. And when he returned, he found his niece was gone. He was frantic, for he had had the charge of her since her youth, upon the death of her parents. And so immediately he began to search far and wide for her. He began in the forest, but had no trail of any kind to follow, and so combed the face of the world, searching for her, until at long last, wretched and alone, he returned to the forest and sat beneath her favorite tree, and gave way to despair that he would ever see her again. The spirit who inhabited that tree was so moved by his grief that she appeared to him, and told him about his niece’s abduction, and offered to take him to her. In exchange, the wood sprite asked the Colonel to marry her, and take her for his wife. The Colonel agreed.

“So the wood sprite led him far away, to a distant land beyond the sea, where the folk who lived there talked and spoke and dressed most strangely. And lo and behold, they discovered that they had actually…gone back in time. To a far distant past. And it was there, that the king of the fairies had imprisoned his niece, Marianne, holding her until she agreed to marry him.”

“How very…interesting. How does the story end, Lamb?”

“Well, happily, I believe, Your Majesty. There are different versions of course. The most accepted form of the tale says that Colonel Brandon rescued his niece, but was unable to get them home again. So he and Marianne Dashwood…found true love at last, there among the people of the past, which is really—our time.” He smiled at her blithely, ignoring Victoria’s increasingly frantic squeezes on his elbow. Inside the privacy of his own thoughts, he made a hasty apology to Jane Austen, and laughed uproariously at the misty-eyed expression Elizabeth was fixing him with. He didn’t dare look at Victoria for fear he would loose his composure entirely, and really laugh most inappropriately.

“What a charming tale!” The Queen laughed. “And so…these are their clothes?”

“Yes, Your Majesty! They are actually taken from the Viscountess’s memories of an old children’s storybook in which she first read the tale.  Doubtless some…artist’s imagination of what clothes from the future might look like, along with…elements of the past,” he gestured at the Greek touches of Victoria’s own Regency gown.

“We must say, we are most impressed with your efforts, as well as your memory!” The Queen looked Victoria up and down. “Charming. Absolutely charming. Such a narrow cut…but so fine a garment, and so beauteous a shade of blue. Almost like a nightdress, but clearly not.  And you, Lamb…” the Queen left Victoria and came sidling up to himself, quite in his space, and spoke to him _sotto voce_. “We find our breath is positively stolen from our body.”

He swallowed heavily. From nerves perhaps, or dread? Victoria still had a death grip on his elbow, and his heart hurt to think what she must be feeling now, with Elizabeth standing so near him, so bent on seduction, ignoring her existence completely. He could not even pat her hand to reassure her now. He hoped that she knew his heart well enough to know what he was feeling.

“I thank you, Your Majesty. We knew our costumes would be rather… unconventional. We hoped they are still appropriate.”

“They are,” she said, not taking her eyes from him. “Most appropriate indeed. Music!” she shouted over her shoulder, still not taking her eyes from him. “We would have you dance with us, Our Lamb.” She turned a sickening smile to Victoria, and he felt her hand drop from his arm.

He felt his own heart drop along with it and he sighed inside.

How could he bear another night of this foolishness? He could _feel_ Robert Dudley, closing in like a dark presence on his Victoria, and he knew without turning to see that she had been swept away by him at the same moment the Queen bade him dance with her.

And so it came to pass that William Lamb, 2nd Viscount Lord Melbourne, found himself waltzing with Queen Elizabeth I before the eyes of her Renaissance Court, while dressed in his Regency finery.

If he and Victoria did not find their way home soon, he would loose what was left of his rational mind.

* * *

“Viscountess.”

Victoria turned wretchedly to face her own doom. Dudley too, had touches of Greek about him, including a laurel wreath around his ears and a toga pinned over his doublet, his own eyes covered in a mask of red leather trimmed in black, a color scheme that echoed that of his garments. “May I have this dance?”

“I do not wish to dance with you now or ever again, Sir.”

He huffed a breath. “So. You cannot even bear to say my name any longer. Have I really fallen thus far in your eyes?”

“You could not possibly be any lower. Now if you will excuse me.”

“One dance only. I beg it of you. I shall beg on my knee if you like.”

“Sir Robert—”

“What’s this? My name on your lips, Lady? A balm to my tortured soul.”

“Why can you not leave me be?”

“I think you know the answer to that question, surely.”

“And I think you know what I have to say about that!”

“Such hatred in your voice. Such venomous words. They give me hope.”

“You are a fool to suppose it!”

“Yes. I am a fool. But I cannot help myself. By all that is holy, Viscountess, I am at you feet. A fool, but an honest fool, who has truly lost his heart to you. A fool who cannot erase the feeling of your lips against his own, or the feeling of you in his arms. A fool who nevertheless maintains that he can and will do everything in his power to make you happy. Please. Assign me a task that I may prove myself worthy! Anything! It is yours.”

“And if I ask you to leave me alone for the duration of the night?”

“That…is the one boon I cannot grant you. I can no more stay away from you than I could sprout wings and fly.”

“Then there is nothing you can do to redeem yourself.”

“Dance with me. Please? Just one turn.”

Victoria glanced balefully at Lord M, who was gliding around the room with Elizabeth. He would not be able to dance with her the whole of the night, she knew.

“I know I am a poor substitute,” Sir Robert said softly. “But it would make me truly happy to at least give you what comfort I may in the beauty of the dance.”

She sighed, and found her hand quite independently of her whole self reaching out to his.

“I thank you, from the bottom of my heart,” he whispered, as his hand came round to her back and he pulled her to the floor. “Indeed, you must be after my blood tonight, Viscountess. Your looks alone slay me where I stand.”

“Indeed I think you exaggerate.”

“Indeed I do not. I have never seen such a ravishing gown. I am not the only man who cannot keep his eyes in his head this night,” he inclined his head to a group of courtiers standing by, who were all gazing quite openly at Victoria. “Allow me to be of some use to you tonight, as your personal guard? I can help keep the wolves at bay.”

“The other wolves, you mean?”

“As you say,” he said, inclining his head in her direction. “But whilst I am here, they will not advance. Send me away though, and you will be besieged.”

“I do not wish to be besieged.”

“And yet, you wear this. Dear God, how did he let you out of his sight looking like this? I do not think I could have done so.”

Victoria willed her cheeks not to grow hot remembering her interlude with Lord M on the way out the door. But as if her thoughts had summoned him, William danced into view over her partner’s shoulder, still whirling with the Queen around in the dance as if he were born to be her partner. It stabbed even deeper into her heart when he was dressed so much like himself. As if he could sense her eyes on him, William raised his eyes to her, and for a moment they were locked in each other’s gaze across the dance floor, over the shoulders of their respective partners. It was almost as if they danced with each other, for no one else existed in that moment for them but the other. And then Dudley turned her, and the spell was broken.

She turned to see her partner's eyes, dark and glittering beneath his red mask. Missing nothing. “Try not to stare so,” he whispered. “I know you prefer him a thousand times to me. But the whole court is watching. You do not want to give fodder for their gossip, which is already beginning to circulate. Let me help you at least to stem the flow of it. Gaze upon me, and pretend you like my company.”

She sighed, reluctantly fixing her eyes on him, recognizing grudgingly that he was, to some degree, right. His eyes were sad as he smiled at her.

“How I do envy him,” he whispered. “I would give my very life to have you look upon me the way you do upon him.”

“Sir Robert, really…” she began, but she was surprised to see something like truth in his eyes. “How can you say such? We are barely acquaintances. ”

“I did not know you a moment before my heart knew it loved you,” he whispered. “Call me a fool. Say it is folly—I know it and you are right. I cannot hope to win your love, and yet my poor heart cannot help but long for it.”

“I do not wish to cause you pain—” she said quietly. “I do not wish that upon anybody. But you must understand I cannot give you what you seek.”

“I do. And yet I seek it still. You have nothing to reproach yourself for,” he smiled. “My pain is entirely of my own making. You have been frank enough upon the point of how you feel about me.”

“How can you profess love for me when you always seek to take what is not offered? I believe you are most disingenuous, Sir Robert. For you ply me with sweet words, and the moment I fall victim to them you are taking advantage!”

“I did not seek to take advantage the other night, I swear I did not. I sought only what I asked for. But I should never have asked. I should never have come to you that night. I was deep in my cups, even more so when confronted with your beauty. I am not perfect, Viscountess. I own I have many faults. One of which is a weakness for beauty. Particularly yours. And a hunger for you that knows no bounds. One taste of your honey sweet lips, and I was lost. I offer you again my most profound apologies.”

“Accepted. On the grounds that you never seek such from me again.”

He exhaled audibly. “How can such a beautiful creature be so cruel?”

“I have never sought your attentions. Nor welcomed them when you offered them.”

“And yet you have. Your very passion alone is telling. You can no more be in the same room with me than you are angry. I find that encouraging.”

“Because you will not take no for an answer!”

“You are right. I do not accept the word ‘no’ very easily.”

“Then you are a rogue. And a scoundrel. For sometimes ‘no’ is the only answer!”

“Oh dear. Am I under your skin again? I do seem to have the most extraordinary ability to… _rouse_ you, Viscountess.”

The dance ended. Sir Robert released her with a smile and an ironic bow.

“I know you do not wish my attentions this night. But would you accept my company at your side in order to keep you safe? There are many here worse company than I, Viscountess. And far more selfish. But if I am with you, they will not approach. Could I beg your indulgence enough for such a purpose?”

She huffed a sigh.  “Yes you may," she said, without enthusiasm. "And I thank you for the gesture. But pray, please do not ask anything further of me.”

“Your company is reward enough for me.  For the moment, I shall be content with that.  Here. Allow me to fetch you some wine?”

She nodded woodenly, and he left her side long enough to return with two goblets. Lord M was across the room on the dais, holding Elizabeth’s chair out for her to sit, looking as miserable as she felt. He raised his eyes to her briefly in confirmation of this. She noted how he knew exactly where she was standing as he did so. He was as aware of her as she was of him.

It was intolerable.

“There. Wine cures many ills, I find. It may not cure what ails you most, Viscountess, but perhaps it might dull the pain a bit.”

“Thank you,” she muttered grudgingly. She and William must get out of here. They must. She could not bear another evening with Robert Dudley in tow. And so she would tell him tonight when they were once again on their own together.

“Does it please you to know that my face still pains me where your cousin clouted me, and that I believe he knocked a tooth loose?”

“Should it please me?”

“You disapprove of me so, I thought you must be pleased to know of my enduring pain on your behalf. That I have received some measure of payment for my crimes.”

“Again, I do not now, nor have I ever wished to cause you pain, Sir Robert.”

“You just wish me far away, is that it?”

“And if I said, yes, what then would you say?”

“That were it so, it would pain me more than any punishment your cousin could deal me with his fists.”

“I do not know how I can comfort you, if that is the case. I have told you repeatedly that I do not wish for your attentions.”

“How cruel my mistress is,” he whispered. “How she rides so roughshod over my poor heart.”

“And how remarkable that you are never discouraged by this, and yet come back always for more!”

“I have told you before. My heart will not admit defeat.”

“Than you are more fool for it.”

“Aye. I am. But it will not be dissuaded.  Nor shall I.”

She sighed. “Sir Robert. You say you are a lover of beauty. There are many beauteous ladies here. Surely—”

“No.” He smiled at her. “Not when my heart has fixed itself upon you.  There can be no other.”

She sighed and accepted another goblet of wine from him. Casting about for a way to change the subject at least, she said, “You also are dressed in a Greek fashion tonight. Who are you and the Queen?”

“She is Helen of Troy,” he laughed bitterly as he swallowed the contents of his goblet in one gulp. “And I, Menelaus.”

“The spurned husband of Helen," she whispered.  "Who launched a thousand ships to recover her from the Trojans."

"You are well educated, I see Viscountess."

"Was your costume her choice, or yours?”

“My own.” He said, exchanging his empty goblet for a full one from a passing steward.

“You are quite jealous of my cousin, are you not, Sir Robert?” She said, pleased to turn the tables on him.  But more than a little curious.  Here was the famous Robert Dudley after all.  Who was remembered most for being Queen Elizabeth's favorite, and rumored to be her lover.  To see this side of him that loved her was irresistible. 

“I am,” he laughed bitterly and held his glass up to her in a mockery of a toast. “Yes, Lady. I am.”

“But I do not believe it is on my account that you are.”

He huffed a great laugh. A bitter sound.  “Oh, but it is. Much more than you know.”

“But if you had a choice to make between us. I do not believe you would choose me.”

“How naive of you my dear, to believe I should ever have a choice in my own fate.” He shook his head, eyes on the Queen. “Bess will not have me. Not now. Not ever. Even if it were not for your cousin. It is impossible. And she, intractable. So you see, there is no such thing as ‘my choice’.” He arched an eyebrow at her and drank from his glass.

“But the Queen loves you.”

“Yes of course she does! As we have overwhelming proof!” He said, indicating the dais in a grand sweep of his wine goblet, where the Queen sat giggling at something William was saying.

“No. Truly I believe she does. Much more than perhaps shows just now.”

“Even if that were still true, it would change nothing. She may love me, but like all men, she does not trust me. She wants to. But every time she begins to feel herself loving—trusting—she remembers her mother’s fate.”

Victoria nodded. “Yes, I have heard the tale. It is monstrous. And so terribly sad.”

“She will treat him the same. Now, she is infatuated. But eventually that will fade. She will find another, and he too will be cast aside. She intends never to marry, I think. No man is good enough. Trustworthy enough for her. So she dangles all of us. Keeping us bound and imprisoned by her side in a hell of constant flirtation, without any happiness, any reward or consummation to be had. If I am to marry at all, it must be to someone else. And I do wish to marry again. I am a man. I have the same… _appetites_ as any other,” he gave her a sideways smile, “And I want more than anything to have a son. An heir. Some… _purpose_ to my existence. Some promise of continuance for the future. Something left behind to show that I once walked this earth.  Some progeny to inherit anything I should be fortunate enough to attain.  And a beautiful wife to warm my bed and help conceive and bring my child into the world. These are the things I crave, Viscountess. The same as all men want, I believe.”

“So I just happened along, is that it, Sir Robert? I wandered into your line of sight one day and you decided I was to be your brood mare, in lieu of Elizabeth, based upon nothing whatsoever except that you liked my looks?”

“Viscountess…what I feel for you…what I have professed to you…I have done so with the utmost sincerity. I meant what I said. My heart saw you, and loved. I want you for my wife, not my ‘brood mare’, as you so delicately put it. You know my terms.  I have told you often enough.  I flatter myself that they are more generous than any other to be had in the whole of Europe.  Still.  My heart is so set on you that if there is aught else you would wish for, you have but to name it.”

“Sir Robert I—”

But she was never to finish her sentence.

“Members of the Court! Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth Regina, commands your attention!”

All eyes turned toward the dais where the Queen had left her table and come to stand before it, casting flirtatious glances over her shoulder at William. Once Sir William Cecil had finished calling all eyes to her, Elizabeth herself turned to address the Court.

“We were going to do this on the morrow, in the Presence Chamber, at Court, where such things are properly done,” she began. “But we find, we cannot wait.” She smiled. “We therefore call for your attention now, and your forgiveness, for the…temporary…halt to the revels. For we have surprises in store for some of our most treasured, loyal and beloved subjects. And so we will proceed to bestow them without further delay. William Lamb! Come. Kneel before us!”

Victoria’s breath hitched as she watched William come and do as he was bade, his face pale, his eyes troubled as he removed his hat and held it before him plaintively.

Dudley was at her side, a hand on her elbow to steady her, but she hardly felt him or knew he was there. Her whole existence was fixed on the tableaux before her.  As indeed, she believed his must be, also.

The Queen stood over William, pitching her voice loudly, addressing the whole assembly:

“Our Lamb! We are delighted that at last you have recovered from your injury. Injury sustained in exhibition sport in celebration of our own recovery. While you have been thus afflicted, we have had much time to think. And we have realized that our life has been much enriched by your presence here at court. To think, that we had such a man within our kingdom--a man filled with a wisdom and a wit most rare, and a loyalty and devotion to duty for both crown and family most admirable—hidden away, languishing, without recognition, for his many inestimable talents, on a small country estate within our own realm. Living a life of humble duty--remote, obscured, uncelebrated. Unrewarded.

“And so he may have remained, without the arrival of his beauteous young cousin from Prussia, who’s great need stirred him forth to seek shelter and succor with his sovereign Queen. For which, we find ourselves most grateful to the Viscountess Alexandrina, for bringing him to us. For we now cannot imagine a life without him. Such qualities as he possesses deserve recognition. Deserve reward. Though we know he would be the first to admonish us and say he craves neither. For he is a simple man with simple needs, and no desire for such advancements. Such humility, in our eyes, makes him all the more worthy.”

Victoria watched, spellbound from the sideline, as Elizabeth was handed a long sheath by Sir William Cecil. From this she pulled forth a gleaming sword. She brought it to rest first on William’s right shoulder, and then on his left.

“Rise,” said Elizabeth, handing the sword to Sir William Cecil. “Henceforth in all the land, may you be styled as William Lamb, Earl…of Leicester. We grant you all rights and privileges of this rank and title, along with the lands of Kenilworth Manor, Castle, and Park, together with the lordships of Denbigh and Chirk.”

The murmuring became a roar. Or maybe that was just in Victoria’s ears. The room seemed to spin about her, and the hand on her elbow jerked, then tightened. She watched her Lord M rise, still in his Regency finery, so like his own clothes, and the tears ran unbidden down her face. She watched him be kissed on both cheeks by Elizabeth, who beamed at him with the unmistakable look of a woman in love.

History books were filled with the tales of love between Elizabeth and the Earl of Leicester.

But this was the wrong man with that title!

This was _her_ man. Not Elizabeth’s. _Hers._

 _Her_ William.

Her beloved Lord M.

She barely kept her feet as memory after memory rushed through her. The first moment she had laid eyes on him at Kensington. Her first Privy Council, where he had whispered in her ear the names of all her ministers, saving her from the worst embarrassment imaginable. Her coronation, and the ball in which they had danced together for the first time. The countless nights they’d dined together, and laughed over cards. Their rides out together. The night he had come to her with tears in his eyes following the narrow victory of the Jamaica bill, announcing that he must step down as her Prime Minister. The turmoil she went through after his departure. The day she found him at Dover House in disarray. And everything that had happened between them here in the past.

He had always been there. Advising. Counseling. Lifting her up. Making her laugh. Championing her right to rule. Legitimizing everything about her reign. Loving her… He was absolutely necessary to her happiness and well being, from the very beginning.  She could not have managed anything without him.

How would she manage now? 

He was _hers,_ her heart screamed. He was _always_ hers. And heart and soul and body—she was _his._ They belonged to each other.  Bound by ties she could not begin to even separate, to understand or untangle.  Truly from the time he had first taken her, made love to her fully, they had been as one person.  Whole only when together.  Suffering every moment they were apart.  Indeed now she thought it had been so ever since they had first met.  Something ran between them so strong that neither had any course open to them but each other, from that moment forth.  Everything else was superfluous.  Irrelevant.  Only he mattered.  And he was everything. 

And yet in one fell swoop, Elizabeth had stolen him.

She felt deep inside her, a physical blow.  A severing of a connection that left her unable to draw breath…unable to keep her feet.

William looked pale she saw. He had not expected this either. But before he was released to come to her side, Elizabeth made a second announcement.

“We are aware that this may come as a surprise, particularly to one man. But we would have him know we have not forgotten him. Sir Robert Dudley! Please come forth.”

Sir Robert released her elbow and did as he was bade. His stride was angry, even she could see that. He had just been usurped from his rightful position.

“Kneel before us, Sir Robert.”

Robert Dudley knelt.

“Sir Robert. Some months ago, we made you a promise. A promise this day we bestowed upon another. But we would like you to know we do not forget you. Nor your service to the crown, and your loyal friendship for so many shared years.” Again, the sword was brandished, and Sir Robert tapped on either shoulder. “Rise. Henceforth in all the land, may you be styled as Robert Dudley, Earl of Warwick. We grant you all rights and privileges of this rank and title, along with the lands therein. And to this we add one further boon. In token of our appreciation for your long service to us and the realm, we have decided to grant you the hand of the maiden you have so ardently requested in marriage—the Viscountess Alexandrina of Prussia. May your union be long and fruitful!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader, I will recall to your attention the fact mentioned early on, that our pair touched down in Elizabeth's era in the year 1564. This was the year that Elizabeth made Robert Dudley the Earl of Leicester. You will note also that throughout the writing of this work, Dudley has never been referred to by that title, for the very good reason that he had not as yet been issued it.
> 
> History does record that he received the lands of Kenilworth, etc., the year prior, in 1563. But the author has taken artistic license with that and deliberately deviated. Also, history tells us that it was Robert Dudley's brother, Ambrose, that was made the Earl of Warwick. And therefore, poor Ambrose in this story got diddled out of his rightful title to make way for his brother. (Sorry Ambrose!) 
> 
> As always, I welcome and enjoy your comments! The next chapter will be coming very soon.


	38. Chapter 38--Draw the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William pleads with Elizabeth to reconsider her decision, while Robert Dudley attempts to soften Victoria's heart toward him. The masque ends early for them both. But what on earth are they to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We go out in the world and take our chances  
> Fate is just the weight of circumstances  
> That's the way that lady luck dances  
> Roll the bones...
> 
> What's the deal?  
> Spin the wheel  
> If the dice are hot...take a shot  
> Play your cards. Show us what you got  
> What you're holding  
> If the cards are cold  
> Don't go folding  
> Lady Luck is golden  
> She favors the bold  
> That's cold  
> Stop throwing stones  
> The night has a thousand saxophones  
> So get out there and rock  
> And roll the bones..."  
> ("Roll the Bones", Rush, 1991)
> 
> “Checkmate honey, beat you at your own damn game...  
> Oh, heads I win, tails you lose, to the never mind  
> When to draw the line…
> 
> Checkmate, don't be late  
> Take another pull...  
> You're the boss of the toss  
> The dice, the price  
> Grab yourself a slice  
> Know where to draw the line.”  
> (”Draw the Line,” Aerosmith, 1977)

Chapter 38—Draw the Line

William moved about as in a daze. He accepted the halfhearted, half stunned congratulations of the Privy Council and what were now, once again, his own fellow peers. Life really must hate him, he thought, to give him exactly what he needed to secure Victoria as his own, while simultaneously snatching her out of his grasp. Was he always to be condemned to play Tantalus where Victoria was concerned? He had never really believed in things like fate, but he was beginning to.

And Fate it seemed, was a fickle whore who hated him.

He watched as Victoria allowed Robert Dudley, now Earl of Warwick, to lead her to a place at dinner and set about serving her, feeding her with morsels from his own plate with the air of a male peacock who’d just secured his little hen. Victoria’s eyes were almost vacant, her face pale. Even from this great distance, he could see the tracks of her tears as she refused to eat.

God almighty! What had this done to her?

His heart crumbled in his chest.  He wanted to go to her. _Needed_ to go to her. Fair burned and trembled with the need of it. A matter of steps would bring him to her side, where he could swoop her up and over his shoulder with ease.  He could have carried her out of the hall before anyone would be able to act. And yet it was as if he were imprisoned behind an invisible wall he could not scale.  He could no more go to her now than he could snap his fingers and return them both to their home, centuries in the future.

He had lost her. Dear God in heaven! He had _lost_ her!

He felt his own tears begin to threaten.

Trying like the devil to keep his composure, he had immediately taken up his case with Elizabeth as they resumed their dinner positions. Seated next to her on her right hand side, he whispered in her ear his grievance.

“Your Majesty, I thought as her guardian, I was to be given the final say in the matter of the Viscountess’s marriage.”

“Oh, do not fuss, our Lord Leicester,” she smiled blithely. “She will be well provided for as Robbie’s wife. And Warwick Castle and Kenilworth are on the same border, after all. Just think, you will have the comfort of being able to look in on her from time to time I am sure, when you are in residence. You must admit, your elevation has made such a match possible. You are an Earl now. And so is Robbie. Yes, it is a most eligible match indeed. He is very…taken…with your little cousin. Indeed he has talked of nothing else since your arrival.”

He thought he detected a hint of pain in her voice, but he was not sure. He did not answer, merely drank from his goblet, his own mind in a whirl, his heart in a vice. There must be some way out of this nonsensical spider's web they found themselves entangled in.  There must!

“We know him well,” she said, laying her hand upon his own. “He is not malicious. He will care for her.”

“If Your Majesty says so.”

“We do. We are very fond of him, Lamb. Perhaps you know how highly we esteem him.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I do indeed.”

“Then both you and the Viscountess should feel the compliment keenly. It was only a year gone that we intended him for our own cousin, Mary of Scotland. But he refused so vociferously, we relented.” She smiled with the memory. “The year before, when we were struck down with fever and struggling for our survival, we named him our successor. Yes…there are few men… _very_ few men…we regard as highly as we do Robbie. That we would seek to fix a match with him at all to anyone at one time was…inconceivable. But we find of late, we can be generous.”

She gave him a coquettish glance, and William retreated to his goblet again. In the privacy of his mind he groaned aloud, shouted in anger, laughed uproariously, tore his hair and went totally and completely mad with the foolish irony of it all. And he, the world’s biggest fool, right at the center of it!

“See how happy he is!” The Queen continued, her eyes fixed on Dudley. “How attentive! We have rarely seen him so, even with his first wife. The Viscountess, we feel, is good for him. And he will be kind to her. We know his generous nature well. If she requires time to adjust herself to a new mate, he will grant her that.  But we believe it will not take her long before she welcomes her new husband to her bed. No woman alive could resist his charm, when he truly means to bestow it. And he does. We believe he is well and truly in love with her.”  Again there were tears in her eyes and she sighed heavily.  Her hand, still covering his, squeezed.

William’s meager dinner nearly rebelled.  If she sought his reassurances, she was to be sorely disappointed. For William was such a wash of pain and anger that he had to remind himself continuously that his dinner companion was Elizabeth I, a very noble and honored queen, and one that could have him beheaded for the insolence he felt rising to the fore inside of him.  He poured more wine, battling with himself for control.  Finally, the statesmen, diplomat and politician in him rose to the occasion. 

“Does that…not trouble Your Majesty?” he was grasping at straws he knew, and still struggling to keep his rebellious dinner down. There must be some diplomatic way to resolve this crisis? He told himself sternly.  There was always diplomacy after all.  If one could but find the right path...

The Queen turned her smile onto him, and he could see her eyes glistening behind her golden mask. “You read us very well, Our Lamb. Yes. It does trouble us.  For we would wish....but it would not be the first time we have sacrificed our own happiness for the good of our subjects. For our own dear Robbie has set his heart on her and will not be dissuaded. And we would rather have his gratitude than his resentment, after all.”

William swallowed hard. Damnation! His mind turned frantically as he watched Dudley fawn over his darling Queen, his hands on her shoulders, his face leaned in to whisper in her ear. Victoria struggling bravely to hold up beneath the crushing weight of the shock and grief they were both feeling…and the constant touches and caresses of a man she found attractive, but did not love.

This was intolerable.  _Intolerable!_   He could not sit here a moment longer watching that man make love to his woman!

HIS woman.  His woman by rights.  In every respect. 

By all that was holy, he had to _do_ something! 

“Your Majesty, we are very aware of the compliment you have paid to the Viscountess in fixing this match. However I must be allowed to point out that you had granted me a say in the final choice. Nay, you had granted me the authority to approve or disapprove before any arrangement was decided upon!”

“Do you feel you have been treated unfairly, our Lord Leicester?” The Queen’s eyes flashed with anger as she turned to him. “We have given _great_ thought to this pairing,” she fumed, her voice trembling with rage. “We have bestowed our blessing before _all_ on this betrothal! We have given the _greatest man_ in all the realm to her as husband—served him up on a silver platter before her! Have sacrificed our _own heart_ to do so, and you wish to _quibble_ because we did not consult you first? We are pained to remind you that _we_ are Queen here! And you…you came to us with _nothing!_ We have honored you both. Beyond all measure. Beyond _reason!_ And you wish to _protest?”_

William lowered his head. No. He could not protest further. He had pushed as hard as he could. There was no hope for diplomatic resolution now. He raised his hands helplessly. “I am sorry, Your Majesty. This just…comes as a great shock, that is all.”

The Queen regarded him in quiet hostility for a moment, her eyes narrowed behind her mask.  “On the morrow, you will remove yourself from the Viscountess’ apartments, to a more… _suitable_ …location, as befits your new station and hers. Your duties to your cousin as guardian are now concluded. Robbie is her new master now. And the sooner you acclimate yourself to this, the better, Our. Lord. Leicester. Take heed, and do not press me further on this matter, for it is well and truly closed, and all has been decided."

William kept his eyes lowered, and focused his attention on breathing normally.  Dear God in heaven!  His instincts from before had been correct.  _Why_ had he not taken her straight to the stables and ridden away this night?  The pain in his chest was so acute he could hardly draw breath.  He could not...he could not live without her!  And she?  What was his little queen to do now?  For she needed him as badly as he needed her. 

He willed his eyes dry.  He did not want to show tears, show weakness in front of this woman.  He was shaking with anger.  So that he could barely think.  It took all his determination to will his face into a neutral expression.  To will himself to staying in his seat. 

The Queen was not finished.

“And as for you, and your _cousin_ , you should both consider yourselves well and truly blessed simply because I did not have you dragged into the courtyard and flogged before all, for the crimes I have heard attributed to you both! Robbie alone, is responsible for your reprieve. He argued quite passionately on both your behalf. And due to the great love we bear him, and yourself, we were moved to clemency.  Do not assume too greatly on that love again, William Lamb."

Dear God, she had known! How long had she known? Bile rose in his throat. It was all he could do to keep his trembling hands out of her sight. He mumbled something in deference, knowing too much of what he felt would be visible in his face. He was a fool. Such a cack-handed fool. It truly was a wonder she had not had them flogged. In Elizabeth's time, fornication could have had far worse punishments even than flogging.  What danger he had subjected his true queen to, because he could not control his own passions!

And Dudley of all people, had been the saving of them.  He must really love her.  To come between the queen's wrath and themselves...

The Queen's hand again covered his own and squeezed.  He raised his eyes to hers.  Her face once again was smooth and serene as a summer sky when the storm had passed.  She smiled benevolently and removed her hand from his.

"Do not fret, Lamb.  What is done is done.  You and she must both accept your fate with a good grace.  You are both well compensated for your loss, after all.  She will be well looked after, cherished by a husband who loves her and will give her the consolation of children and a fine home where she will want for nothing.  You could not have provided better for her than that.  And you yourself have been granted a new life as well, filled with honor. You will have income and independence, as well as influence, as rightly a man of your wisdom should. It is a life we have bestowed upon you as reward for your many great virtues. A life we feel you deserve."  She sighed, and dropped her eyes to her hands. “We can none of us have what we truly desire in this world. We must all therefore learn to accept the fate that is given to us, and make our peace with it. It is in this acceptance that we find the only true happiness this side of heaven.  It is our hope and prayer that these compensations will dull the sting of disappointment for you both.  We hope it shall not be everlasting."

"Your Majesty is very thoughtful," he managed to choke out.  "I find I do not know what to say."  His rage had left him.  Elizabeth was, in her own fashion, trying to be kind.  And for her to bare so much of what she truly feels to him, must have been difficult for her to do.  Elizabeth did not show weakness or vulnerability easily.  Therefore she must trust him a great deal.  He felt complimented.  Honored by it.  And he owned that from her perspective, Elizabeth had been quite generous.  By any perspective, truly.  She had been.  She had given them everything. 

Except each other.

He raised his eyes to the woman he loved more than life itself, and found her looking at him too. She read all too clearly what was in his face.

* * *

Victoria had had quite enough of Robert Dudley.  She had had quite enough of everyone. She wanted only to escape this horror. To pretend it was not true.

But one look at her lover’s devastated face told her all she needed to know.

All hope for them was lost.

“My dear Alexandrina,” Dudley said, pressing his lips to her hand. “For so I may address you now. I will be good to you, I swear it! I will strive ever to please you. Though I know you would wish it otherwise, I shall endeavor to make a good husband for you. I promise you most faithfully, that I am wholly, and helplessly yours.”

She had not the heart to answer him. She had not the heart to speak to him. Her hand rested in his listlessly, so much so that she began dimly to be aware he was truly alarmed. 

“My dear,” he said, kneeling before her, still cradling her hand. “Is there aught I can fetch for you? Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

She shook her head. Her blood was thrumming in her ears. There must be a way out…a way out… 

Dudley was stroking her hand. “Bess had told me that I was to be Leicester. But, as I struck her favorite on the court, I am punished. What was mine is now bestowed upon him. But as she loves me, I am rewarded. Warwick is not as grand. But it will still be a good living. Warwick Castle will be our home now. It is a fine house. Wait until you see it. And we can make it even grander. Anything you wish to change, say so and it will be done. I want you to be happy in all things.”

“No. You do not want me to be happy in all things,” she said, her voice sounding hollow to her own ears. “If you did, you would release me. Instead you have captured me. And as a captor, you wish to make my cell the more comfortable.” She turned to look at him. “But a cell is still a cell. It is a prison, even if it’s bars were gilded in gold. No matter how you justify it to yourself, Sir Robert, you have made me your prisoner. And yourself, my jailer. Such is not the nature of love.”

“No! No indeed for it is I who are your prisoner!” He pressed her fingers passionately to his lips. “I have been your willing captive since the moment I set eyes upon you.”

“A _willing_ captive is no captive at all! Your door is open, my Lord Warwick. Take your freedom and fly. For I do not wish to hold you. But that is the difference between us. For you do wish to hold me.”

He bowed his head, stroking her hand. “You mistake me, Lady. I wish only to win your love.”

“No! You do not! Or you would not have forced this engagement upon me! Win my love openly and honorably, where it is freely mine to give, or to withhold! Now you have insisted. You have left me no choice! You cannot win me when I have no choice upon the matter! I can only submit to my fate or rail against it. Where there is no free choice there is nothing left to win.” A tear, unbidden, fell from her eye.

“Such is the way of things. Surely you know that! Surely Prussia cannot be so much different from England!”

“I assure you, My Lord. _My_ Prussia is a very different place.”  She broke off on a sob.  Looked back to the dais. Her heart felt ripped from her chest. He was well and truly lost to her now. How would she bear it? How would he?

“Alexandrina, we can none of us have what we truly want in this life. I blame him not for loving you. Nor even you, for loving him. Indeed, though he is older perhaps, he is a good man. Far better than myself in many ways. We are all dealt a hand to play. This is the best hand for us all. It bears with it not the great excitement or bottomless joy of our heart’s desire. But I believe that life is what we make of it. We take what we are dealt and we set about adjusting to it. There is a sort of happiness that can be found there. I know you will never love me the way you do him. But I do feel that someday, hopefully before I depart this life, that you can come to love me also. Less, certainly. And never instead of. But simply… _also_. I would do a lot to have you smile on me, Lady.”

Victoria sighed.  “You are a kind man, Sir Robert. It is not that I do not like you. It is that I love him,” she whispered. “More than my own life. I cannot begin to dream of this…a life without him does not bear thinking on!”

“I know it is hard for you both,” he stroked her hand, “but you must accept that it is _over_. Love is a beautiful dream. Sometimes, if we are very fortunate, it comes true. But most of the time, like all dreams, it merely comes to an end.”

He knelt before her, and Victoria looked at him through swimming eyes as if she’d never seen him before.

“You must stay for awhile longer," he said quietly.  "Finish the banquet. Dance a little with me.  Then you will be able to leave, should you wish it."

Victoria nodded woodenly, and that was the end of it.  She ate what he offered her, and tried to listen as he spoke of wedding plans, and land holdings, and his plans for the future.  When the banquet had concluded the dancing resumed, and Victoria danced with her new betrothed husband through many of the dances he had taught her months ago, and waltzed some as well.

As had been in the past--or future--William had kept to the sidelines for most of the dancing.  He had not learned many of the dances of this era, and so the Queen was obliged to dance with others while William kept his vigil over Victoria.  As she looked up to catch his eye, to see him dressed so much like himself, her love for him, her sadness, the memories all threatened to choke her.  How long had he watched over her, thus?  Had it not always been this way between them, she dancing, and he watching?  And every time she'd ever raised her eyes to his, then as well as now, she had wished most fervently that he was her partner.  And in her heart, he was.  In every dance, always and forever, she danced for him, even if not with him.  Her eyes told him she was his, no matter what or who came between them.  And each deep, shuddering breath he drew, she knew he knew it to be true. 

Finally, much later, she was released.  Her new betrothed led her to the sideline, away from the dancing couples, and away from the Queen, and to the doors of the banquet hall. 

When they were outside, he kissed her hand sweetly.  "Go. Go back to your rooms tonight. Back to him. Once you leave the hall, he will be able to make his excuses soon and follow. You have tonight to say goodbye to each other. On the morrow though, Bess will have ordered him to move from your rooms. And henceforth, you will begin a new life. With me.” He gave her a shaky smile. “Even this I will give you. In token of my love for you.  I hope that you can appreciate the sacrifice for what it is.” He kissed her gloved fingers with passion and with dismissal.

"Thank you, Sir Robert," she mumbled. 

He made her a halting bow.  "I can hardly believe I do this myself.  Truly I must be glutton for punishment."

Moved by a sudden impulse, Victoria stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.  "Thank you," she said again simply, and turned on her heel and made her escape.

* * *

Victoria did not know how long she paced the floor until finally she heard William coming through the door.

“Oh God!” She wailed, throwing herself into his arms.

He squeezed her tight, then sought her lips with his. His kiss was like fire…like life itself on her mouth.  He kissed her and kissed her and Victoria grew weak and moaned against him.  "Oh William, oh my darling...make love to me.  I need you so," she said against his chest, pressing herself tightly against his body. 

“No,” he said when he released her. “We cannot. Not tonight. The Queen has ordered me to move from your apartments tomorrow. She has officially declared my guardianship of you to be at an end. I have no further claim to you. Diplomacy has failed.”

“Dudley has said the same. Lord M!” she sniffed. “Oh dear God!  What are we to do?”

“Take heart! And pack some things. And bring any food that may be in the rooms. We may have need of it. Quickly. We will need to move fast.  We are leaving, Victoria. Now. Tonight. Or be lost to each other forever.”

"Oh my darling William!"  She said, reaching for him, pulling his lips to hers again. 

It was he who moaned against her this time.  "Go, quickly!  There is so little time!"

They changed out of their Regency costumes with speed. Victoria thanked heaven that they had both ordered dark riding clothes along with their fancy dress, and that William had at least procured them the horses. Both bundled up a few belongings—mostly their plainest attire, but including their Regency clothing among them—and he took his sword from the closet and strapped it to his waist.

“First, we make for the chapel. Then, like it or not, Dudley will have to go through me to get to you, even if we are found.”

“What if he harms you? What if they throw us both into the Tower? Or worse?”

He looked at her, his face softening. He cupped her cheek with one strong warm hand.

“If I lose my life in defense of you, My Queen, I count it very well spent indeed. However I would prefer strongly to live, and enjoy having you for my wife for as long as we have left to us before that happens in the due course of events.”

“I thought I had lost you, not so long ago. I cannot bear the thought of losing you for real. Not like that. Better to lose you to Elizabeth first. At least then I would know you live, my darling.”

He kissed her hard and fast, and then released her. “No matter what happens, know I love you. And I always shall. I am not a man of action—you know this. And Dudley is. He is also younger and stronger. But I’ll be damned if I give you up without a fight. I have no intention of leaving you, my darling girl. But if I do, I charge you to go forth and live. If I am gone, and you are stuck in this place alone, say I kidnapped you. It matters not if I am dead. Go back to Dudley and marry him.  Here without me, he is your best hope of happiness and security. For I believe he really loves you.”

“No…” she sobbed.

“Yes,” he insisted. “He is so in love with you he will forgive you anything. Even this flight. Accept his forgiveness, if anything happens to me. Do you understand?”

She could not speak. She choked on her tears, cradling his hand in both of hers as it cupped her cheek. “Do not speak so to me, I forbid it! I cannot bear it!”

“Victoria, my love,” he said, his voice breaking. “Courage now. I am still here, after all. This is our last chance. Or do you wish instead to accept the fate Elizabeth has chosen for us both?”

“NO!”

"Then screw your courage to the sticking place, Ma’am.” He said, stroking her face with a smile. “And be quick!”

Her heart in her throat, she did as he bade, and followed her Lord M into the dark corridor. Slipping silently into the shadows, they made their way downstairs, through the back stairs the servants used, and out into the dark courtyard beyond. From there into the stables, to the horses he had purchased for such a moment as this. As quickly and quietly as could be managed, they prepared their mounts and led them to the back gate and into the free night, mounted up and were gone.

They headed east along the Thames, but sticking to the forests along the route he had reconnoitered before, which avoided the roads. After about a half hour, they had arrived at the chapel. Lord M negotiated most eloquently with the vicar and with gold to secure them entrance.

Before another half hour passed, William Lamb and Victoria were married.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, but what will be the fallout from this desperate act?
> 
> No, readers, the story is not over! Stay tuned and keep holding on. They are not out of the woods yet!
> 
> As always I love and appreciate your comments!


	39. Chapter 39--You Wreck Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William and Victoria are in full flight. But will they be able to outrun the wrath at the palace when they are missed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Tonight we ride, right or wrong  
> Tonight we sail, on a radio song  
> Rescue me, should I go down  
> If I stay too long in trouble town
> 
> Ohhh yeah,  
> You wreck me, baby  
> You break me in two  
> But you move me, honey  
> Yes, you do
> 
> Now and again I get the feeling  
> Well if I don't win, I'm a gonna break even  
> Rescue me, should I go wrong  
> If I dig too deep, if I stay too long
> 
> Ohhh yeah,  
> You wreck me, baby  
> You break me in two  
> But you move me, honey  
> Yes, you do…”  
> (”You Wreck Me”, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, 1994).

Chapter 39—You Wreck Me

They left the chapel in the greatest of haste.

Some extra gold he’d left behind with the vicar who’d married them, in the hopes it might buy his silence on the matter, or, at the very least, his misdirection of any who would be sure to be following. What he didn’t know was how long they had before they were missed. Melbourne hoped that they’d have a few hours’ head start at the very least, if not the whole of the night. They could sure put the time to great use.

And Victoria had made good use of some of her gold, as well.

He slanted a look at her and chuckled. She never ceased to surprise him. With a bit of gold of her own, she had purchased from the vicar a set of boys clothes that belonged to his eldest son, traded her ladylike side-saddle for that of a man, and now sat astride her palfrey, cloaked in gray, looking for all the world like a young squire, and not a bride newly married.

 _His_ bride. Newly married to _him_.

“This will aid our escape, will it not?” She had asked him, her darling blue eyes bright and twinkling.

“I confess it might make some things simpler,” he had gazed at her for a long moment, amusement warring with his other feelings, “While complicating others.”

Her soft, lush curves were on entirely too much display for his liking in a pair of form-fitting trousers, despite the long tunic. Perhaps from a distance, she might pass for a boy. But anyone who got a close enough look would know better instantly. Her movements, as well as her body, were entirely feminine.

So soft. So feminine.

And oh God, did he want to ravish her where she stood.

“And no one shall see my hair beneath this,” she said smiling, drawing the long hood of her cloak around her face, pleased with her own ingenuity as she spun for his approval. “Admit it, Lord M. It is very clever, is it not? I can be your squire, or page, or something. Think of it! I am entirely incognito in this! Now we have much less chance of being recognized!”

He had sighed. “Have you no sympathy for my plight at all? How on earth am I supposed to pretend you are just a boy, and not the most enchanting creature ever to be born? You have just given me the most appalling reputation for buggery, you do realize that? For I will not be able to keep my eyes or my hands off of you.”

“I haven’t _become_ a boy just because I am dressed like one, after all,” she said, wrapping her arms around his midsection and placing a kiss against his breastbone. “So your reputation is quite safe.”

Resigned, he had acquiesced. They had not the time to debate the morality of such things at the moment, in any case. So off into the night they had rode, not as a man and wife newly married, but as a man traveling with his young servant boy.

God forgive him.

His first order of business was to get them first in, then out of London. And for that, he’d have to take them straight into the heart of the city and head for London Bridge, which was at this time, the only bridge crossing of the river Thames. Their only other option would be to book a ferry, and that might be easier to trace than simply joining a crowd of foot and horse traffic across the bridge.

From there, they would make their way down into Southwark, and hopefully clear the city entirely before morning. Then it would be a matter of cat and mouse all the way to Dover harbor, where, if they were extremely lucky, in about five days’ time they might arrive unnoticed and book passage to France.

Fortunately, both he and Victoria were excellent riders, and he had at least had enough foresight to obtain quality mounts for them both that would suit them quite well over long distances, and in the wild terrain that stretched between south London and Dover. In addition, he had a good deal of coin ferreted away in a money pouch which he wore next to his skin, as well as some loose in the small pouch he wore without, which would be useful for buying bribes or even an occasional meal, as well as the all important channel crossing to freedom.

Unfortunately, they had very little by way of rations beyond the meager amount that they had been able to procure from the vicarage and pilfer from their rooms at Whitehall. Keeping themselves fed would be one of the greater challenges they faced in the next few days. For he was no huntsman after all, and neither was Victoria. And stopping at inns, or even hamlets, posed a great deal of risk, both to themselves and to any hapless soul whom they had chance to encounter and might be foolish enough to sell or render them aid.

To make matters worse, shelter would be an additional concern. Both for safety and comfort. They would have to live out of doors for a time, he knew. For them to be traced even to one inn south of London might be enough for the Queen’s men to divine their ultimate destination, even if they could not guess to begin with. But sleeping rough also posed a great deal of risk. They would be exposed to elements, as well as to wolves and other assorted wildlife. To say nothing of threats from an entirely more human nature. For the woods would be home to other outlaws and highwaymen, as well as the Queen’s men. And he knew he was inadequate protection at the very best for his darling wife, dressed as a page or not.

Damnation, but this was a most damnable turn of events! It was absolute disaster. The worst possible outcome, save one, and that was submitting to the Queen’s will and letting Dudley take her without a fight. He’d tried—God knew he’d tried! To avoid this reckless action like the very plague. And yet, here they were. There was no more choice in the matter. No other avenue open to them any longer. They simply had to flee for their lives, and for their right to be together as man and wife.

He sighed. No, that was one aspect of this night he would never regret. No matter what end it brought him to. It was already worth it all. For next to his skin he also carried a most precious document. A beautiful piece of parchment that bore his signature and hers, and the vicar’s, and two witnesses in the form of the good man’s family, declaring that he and his darling girl were finally and truly wed.

It was an act of complete and utter treason against the crown.

But to submit to the crown in this of all matters was an act of treason against his very heart, and the heart of the small, hooded and cloaked woman riding stalwart beside him.

Lord Melbourne did not consider himself to be a praying man. But he offered up a prayer, tainted though it might be to the ears of heaven, on behalf of the woman beside him. It wasn’t a prayer that consisted so much of words or pleas or promises. Rather it was an offering of his very heart, with all of its turmoil and fear, and determination and love. He prayed that God might see fit to see them both through this. And as an alternative, that He would keep at least Victoria safe.

He’d meant what he’d told her before. But what he had not told her was that should they catch him, he would take all responsibility onto himself, regardless. Take the full brunt of the punishment. Lie if he had to—say he forced her. Anything to secure her freedom and safety. If he could not have her after all, he did not care what became of himself. Only she mattered. And she mattered over all other considerations. He would die a traitor’s death—hung, drawn and quartered--if that’s what pleased Elizabeth. Or simply beheaded. If it would mean her safety, he’d gladly lay down his life to secure it.

It was only fitting, after all, as her Prime Minister and only protection in this place and time, that he would willingly make that sacrifice if the need arose. It would be no less than his duty under such extreme circumstances. Just as it was no less than his duty to remain by her side forever more if allowed, until death parted them however it saw fit.

But more than that, it would be a final act of love from himself to her.

To sacrifice himself so that she might live…he could think of no more fitting end for his whole, misspent life than that. And no one more worthy of the gift than his darling love, his true Queen.

He stole a glance at her. She rode by his side, looking as at home astride her horse as any man, her back ramrod straight, the outline of her pert, delicate little nose only just visible peaking out of the hood of her cloak. Her eyes were forward, fixed on the path ahead, every line of her body speaking of steely resolve and courage in the face of a dark and uncertain night.

Dear God how he loved her.

So small. So delicate. He knew intimately every inch of her dainty form. As fragile and beautiful as a small, exquisitely crafted doll, so much so that on more than one occasion he’d fretted he might break her by accident during their more passionate interludes. But inside this tiny woman beat the heart of a lioness, with the strength of will and fury of a Valkyrie. She was truly every inch a queen.

And now, this queen, this amazing young woman, was his wife in truth.

He glanced at her again. Never had he ever been so envious of a horse. How he wanted suddenly to be beneath her, to feel himself deep inside of her as she rode him, her eyes glazed, lips parted, head thrown back in passionate abandon, her darling little breasts jiggling with her every movement…

_Hell’s teeth!_

He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. _Bloody hell. Not now!_ He couldn’t not think of these things now! They had miles to cover. Days of riding and danger. And time was of the essence.

It was not long before the arms of London reached out to them, and they became enveloped in an embrace of buildings and streets, and the cobbles beneath their horses’ hooves clopped ominously in the deserted, empty dark.

“Do you know where we are?” She whispered once.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he pointed to a street sign. “Shordiche. We are on a straight path now to the bridge. Pray that we cross it before we are missed.”

* * *

Victoria nodded in silent assent and swallowed hard. Lord M’s face—her husband’s face—was set in hard lines as he scanned their surroundings. She had rarely seen him look so forbidding, and it reminded her strongly of the time the Chartists had created a disturbance at the unveiling of her father’s monument. The stern, watchful look accentuated the strong planes of his face; the sharpness of his cheekbones, the firm set of his jaw were set in sharp relief against the wash of occasional moonlight, accentuating the effect until he looked as intimidating as a mountain. He was her strong protector, her stalwart defender. And when he looked thus, Victoria felt invincible. The buildings around them, with their darkened alleys and shadowed walkways seemed far less frightening. With him beside her, she could face any threat. Meet any challenge with confidence and courage.

How she wanted to curl up in his lap and ride with her arms wrapped securely around him, her head against his heart! Secure against him, his strong heart beating beneath her cheek…oh what bliss would be hers!

She was flooded suddenly with the memory of his body, the soft fuzziness of his chest, the strength of his muscular torso beneath her hands, the salty taste of his skin…the heat of pleasure as he moved inside of her…

She gasped. No. She mustn’t think of such things now. Not now, when their lives were dependent upon the timeliness of their escape. But later…when they were quite safe again…

She caught the movement of his head and turned again to look at him. Swallowed hard. So handsome. How could one man be so very handsome? His eyes softened as she met them, and she caught the amused quirk of an eyebrow, the twitch of his shapely mouth. Had her thoughts been so very obvious?

She smiled a little ruefully. He held her eyes for a protracted moment, and she knew that they were both thinking of the same thing…wanting it so dreadfully badly. As he held her eyes, Victoria could almost feel him moving inside of her again.

His lips twitched a bit more. Then she saw him draw in a deep breath and felt him turn his attention back to the road with reluctance.

Oh yes, he was feeling it too. The golden thread. The one she had felt tie her to him from the very beginning, from even before their landing in these outrageous circumstances, so far back in time. It was stronger now of course, and thicker, more like piano wire than the delicate strands of a harp. So much had transpired between them. So much they had shared. They were bound together inextricably now, the bonds of love and devotion and even marriage so interwoven between them, their hearts melded together until all memory of separate existence were as weak and distant as the fading recollection of a dream. There could be no other outcome than this. No place she would rather be now than at his side, riding through the dark, uncertain night towards freedom. Freedom to love, freedom to be together, whether in life or in death, or both.

For Victoria had no intention of allowing herself to be drawn from his side.

His instructions to her prior to their flight rang in her ears. _“Marry Dudley…accept his forgiveness…I charge you to live on.”_

 _No, my darling Lord Melbourne,_ she thought at him, _my hero, my friend, my love, my brave defender, my husband, forgive me. But I cannot. I will not leave your side. Come what may, we will face it together._

They rode on through the darkened, almost deserted streets. Through a half-timbered jungle of multi-storied buildings, their upper stories hanging over them, menacing, their windows like vacant eyes that watched their slow progress. The stench of the city--the acrid scent of refuse--rose pungent and suffocating from the gutters that ran down the sides of the cobbled streets, hanging in her nostrils, threatening to choke her.

Now walking, now trotting, now walking again, they made their way from Shordiche to Busshoppe’s Gate Streate.

They slowed as they neared it—the first great sentinel of the city—the Bishopsgate itself.  A gatehouse, set in the stone perimeter wall of the old city. 

“Draw your hood close about your face,” he whispered. “And no matter what, let me do the talking.”

She was glad now she’d taken precautions. Glad now that she had decided on this brilliant incognito disguise. She knew he was proud of her ingenuity too, even if he did frown in disapproval every time he looked at her legs.

But oh, the freedom of men’s clothes! To go about as nature intended—no corset!  Instead she had taken her shift and wrapped it quite tightly around her breasts, repeatedly like a sash, tucking its ends up under itself.  This not only flattened them somewhat, giving her more of a boyish figure, but also kept them from jiggling about so much, especially on horseback.  The feeling was so liberating.  Not only the corset, but also all the weight of skirt over skirt was removed! She felt so light…as if she could do anything. And once she got over the awkwardness she found she quite liked riding astride her palfrey.

She may never go back to women’s clothes again.

“Hark! Who goes there?” Came the voice of the sentry gate, disembodied, but loud and commanding.

“Sir Robert Peel,” said Lord Melbourne beside her, “and his page!”

Victoria bit the inside of her cheeks. Hard.

“What’s your business here at this time of night?”

“An errand of great importance, Sir. The lad’s mother is delivered of another child, but her husband was killed just a month gone. The lad has been called home into the city from my service in the north to assist his family.”

“Right,” said the gatekeeper, sounding bored. “You may pass.”

“Thank you!” Called Lord Melbourne, and he led her slowly through the gate.

* * *

Cautiously they made their way through London’s streets, aiming as straight for the bridge as could be managed. So far, so good, Melbourne thought, as they hurried on, closer and closer to the bridge.

The danger was acute now. He felt the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. The streets were narrow and fairly deserted, but every so often he saw a man of law, or a soldier, and felt himself start. It was like riding straight into an ambush waiting to happen.  However, none of them seemed to be alerted or paying attention to their presence, or to much of anything in particular.

Good. Yes, very good indeed. The alarm had not yet been raised. Their absence not yet discovered.

If their luck should hold until they got across…out of the city and into the wilds beyond, he should feel they might have a chance to live until tomorrow. Every moment took them farther away from Elizabeth, closer and closer to freedom. They must make the most of this night. They must put as much distance between themselves and the palace as possible before they were missed.

Bishopsgate Street gave way to Gracyon’s, which gave way to New Fyshe Street, and soon they saw the mighty London Bridge looming before them. There was a gate to be crossed at either end. So Lord Melbourne gave yet a different name and reason—this time he used the name of an old enemy—Lord Byron. He chuckled to himself as they rode onto the bridge to think that for the first and only time in his entire life, Byron had been of some use at last.

“Byron” and his page picked their way carefully along the bridge. Had he not been so intent upon crossing it and escape, he would have lingered to marvel at this medieval monstrosity in its heyday. Buildings of all sorts--residences, shops, municipal buildings, inns and taverns, even a church--as far down the bridge as could be seen lined both sides, several stories tall, creating a roadway that was more of a tunneled street then a bridge.

Much of this had been burned in the great fire that was yet to come, and so no longer existed in this form in their own time. What had been left had been largely renovated during his lifetime and then eventually, replaced. But like this—the bridge was truly something to behold. Anything and everything for the traveler as could be desired was available all along its length—save the ability to pass quickly through the narrow street that was left to them. Fortunately there was little traffic along here at this late hour, so they made reasonable progress fairly quickly.

At it’s very center it became a drawbridge, allowing tall ships passage to and fro along the river. But they made their way across with no trouble or delays. At this hour, there was no ship traffic up and down the Thames to contend with.

At long last, they reached the south gate. This was where traditionally the heads of traitors were boiled, dipped in tar, then impaled on spikes as a warning to other would-be traitors. Even in the darkness, William could see the grisly remains, looming ominously over them. He swallowed hard, and patently refused to think about the fact that in the very short future, his own might be among them. No, he would not consider it. He and Victoria would be successful. They would make their way to France and then farther beyond besides, eventually finding themselves a place they could go to ground outside the reach of Elizabeth. And from there, hopefully, home.

They crossed the last gate with no great difficulty, and were once again on dry land, in Southwark. The hour was growing late—or early. Though they needed to clear London and be safely gone to ground by daybreak, William knew they needed refreshment for the horses as well as for themselves.

Warring with himself as they made their way through the less-reputable establishments of the district, past the brothels and the animal baiting rings, they came at last to a row of inns, taverns and hostelrys. It must be here, he thought. This part of the city was still active, despite the waning night, with all manor of debauchery. Here they would be less noticeable in the crowd. Just another pair of weary travelers, unremarkable, unmemorable, part of a milling throng of questionable customers. Yes. Here would do nicely for a quick meal, as well as for procuring some additional supplies for their flight south.

He glanced again at his Queen with a sigh. How he hated exposing her to this seedy underbelly of London life. How he hated risking walking her into an establishment, her so obviously feminine form thinly disguised as a boy, the shapely curve of her hips and legs, the whole shape of her beautiful bottom so clearly outlined for every man to see! Thank God her cloak was long at least, he thought. Otherwise he might be forced to murder more than one man who dared gaze upon her.

But ohh, she was so damnably adorable. As ever she was when thinking she was “incognito”. It made him want to ravish her, here and now. Dear God, how was he to get through this night without all the appearance of a crazed old sodomite so mad with lust for his young squire than he appears to bugger him in the open? He would likely be arrested, even in this questionable part of town. One didn’t engage in such activity except in certain brothels that catered to such tastes. Or behind very closed, very private doors.  No. He could not risk them so shamefully. He must get a handle on himself. He must rise to the occasion and become the actor, for her sake.

His mind drifted. He would so much rather _her_ get a handle on him.  A very firm handle.  And he would certainly rise to the occasion then…ohh, her soft little hand on him always just…

_Bloody, bollocking hell!_

He shook himself physically. He could not indulge such thoughts now. Not when there was so much at stake!

Once again he debated whether a stop was necessary or advised. But he could not expect her to keep going this way without a stop at some point. She was not even accustomed to riding astride. Her legs would be tired by now, and they had much riding still ahead before they could finally stop and rest, where he could rub her aching muscles for her, cover them in soothing caresses…kisses…all the way up to…

No. They must stop. And so must he. He had to get them to safety. Safety and then…he would ravish her without end. His wife. His rightful, lawfully married wife. He would keep her in his bed for a fortnight at least. Wallowing in lust, feasting on her lithe little body, drowning in passionate, sexual indulgence fully and completely with the one woman he could never get enough of. And miracle of miracles, she could never get enough of him either.  And finally, there would be no one there to tell them they mustn't. 

Tearing his attention back to the road he began to look for a suitable location for a stop.

And then he saw it. The perfect place to christen their journey to freedom. Despite the direness of their circumstances and the turmoil of his lust-drenched thoughts, William Lamb smiled. There, on the East side of Borough High Street, along the old Dover Road, stood none other than The Tabard Inn.

* * *

“Are we stopping?” Victoria reigned in alongside her new husband.

“Yes. We must I think. The horses will have need of it, even if we do not.” He dismounted in that way that made her breath catch, by cavalierly throwing his leg over his mount’s head and sliding to the earth in one graceful, athletic motion.

He stood beside her and arched an eyebrow up at her as he held Agnes’ head. “As my squire, you require no assistance out of the saddle, you know,” he said, his mouth quirked. “And it would cause no end of scandal, even in this part of town, were I to assist you.”

She threw her reins at him, glowering as he caught them, laughing. He was enjoying this far too much. Though her thighs were numb, she shifted her weight to the left and grabbed hold of her saddle horn, dismounting in the way she had watched other normal, mortal men do it, by throwing her free leg behind the saddle and sliding in a dignified fashion to the ground.

Though her muscles were trembling from the unaccustomed spread of her legs across her horse’s back, she managed to keep her feet with only a little wobble as she leaned against Agnes, and glared up at her husband.

“Well done,” he said in approval, patting Agnes. “We’ll make a boy out of you yet.”

“I do not _wish_ to be a boy,” she whispered vehemently. “Merely to _look_ like one to aid our escape.”

“Well, thankfully the lights are dim enough inside if you keep your hair hidden you might pass for a lad, albeit an extremely effeminate one. Just try not to walk like a woman. You are far too ladylike, I fear, for this subterfuge to work.”

“It is most unbecoming of you, you know,” she whispered archly, “for you to laugh so at your wife. Much less your queen.”

“I do not laugh at you, my darling. But dear God, you have no idea what your incognito disguises always do to me. I have but one burning desire right now—and it is _not_ for a mug of ale. And yet your disguise puts you beyond my reach while we are in sight of any humanity. You are most unkind to your new husband, my love.”

She gave him a sideways look and buried her smile in her cloak. “I suppose it would be out of the question for me to kiss you at this moment.”

“It would indeed. As would a great many other things I cannot stop thinking about wanting you to do with me, this very moment.” His eyes were at once amused and hooded, and she read much of what he was thinking in his slow, sensual smile.

She licked her lips and sighed. “I see we are united in our illicit desires then, my Lord...what ever shall I call you here? We have used so many new names this night I am confused entirely.”

“Alfred, Lord Tennyson,” he said quickly. “And you, my dear, are my page, Arthur.”

She spluttered briefly with giggles. “You are running out of names, are you not?”

“Never.” He said with a wink.

“Welcome, Sirrahs,” came a portly, middle-aged publican, wiping his hands on a greasy apron, startling them out of their mutual fantasies. “Welcome to the Tabard Inn. How can we serve ‘ee this eve?”

“Food and ale for ourselves. Feed and water for the horses,” Lord M replied.

“Certainly. TOM!” He hollered across the courtyard as a young man came hurrying towards them. “Feed and water for the horses for these gents. Smart about it!”

Young Tom took hold of Dash and Agnes and led them away to the stables while Victoria and Lord M followed the publican into the Tabard Inn. They were seated in a dark corner with a small candle to light their table as their good host brought two mugs filled with ale, and placed before them a hearty looking stew and a small loaf of fresh bread.

“I want to hold your hand under the table,” he whispered when the man had gone. “But I dare not. Bloody hell!”

She grinned at him. “Never mind. We should eat anyway.”

“Oh yes. We certainly should.” He sighed dramatically. “Damn and blast!”

“Such conversation is hardly helpful, My Lord Tennyson,” she said, teasing, arching an eyebrow.

“Neither is such obvious flirtation, my lad Arthur.” He winked at her.

“Here,” she said, shoving the bread loaf at him. “Put this in your mouth and chew. It will help.”

“Only if there is plenty of butter,” he threw her a look through his long lashes. “For I require something slippery to aid in my enjoyment of it.”

She hid her giggles in her mug of ale.

“Truly you look so forlorn and downcast,” she said still giggling. “I wonder if the good innkeeper has a dish of oysters on the half shell to assuage your…needs, this night?”

“Not a bushel of such could assuage my needs this night. Want of oysters is not what ails me.” He fixed her with a look that melted her bones.

“Oh?” she said, cocking an eyebrow. “Well in that case, try some of this most excellent beef stew instead.”

“Beef stew indeed,” he said with a sigh and upended his tankard. “Damnation, this is one hell of a wedding night, I have to say. I am sorry for it, you know. I shall make it up to you, I swear I shall.”

“Yes,” she said simply. “You most certainly will.”

He huffed a laugh. “I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I.”

“You are far too refined when you eat, you know,” he said, taking up his spoon. “For God’s sake, put your elbows on the table or something. Do you know what this place is?”

“An inn?” She said, leaning over awkwardly and endeavoring to follow his advice.

“A most particular one.”

“How so?”

“Chaucer. His pilgrims began their journey to Canterbury here.”

“This is the inn? From the Canterbury Tales? The very one?!”

He nodded and tucked into his own meal.  “It’s called the Talbert in our time. And its a very fine coaching inn. Not the original building though. This place burned down during the reign of Charles II. What a remarkable thing to be here! I thought it a most fitting beginning to our own pilgrimage.”

“It is. Very. And this is quite possibly the best beef stew I have ever tasted. But then, perhaps it is the company that makes it so.”

“Perhaps so,” he said softly. Then cleared his throat. “Damn your costume. I can’t help myself at all. I shall be the unhappy recipient of the most egregious scandal now and it is all your fault.”

She laughed. “But you must own my disguise has made this all possible. Dressed as myself, we would have garnered far more notice along the way.”

“True enough. I do advise us to eat quickly though. This was a risky stop. We must be on our way soon. I want to be away from town before sunrise.”

A buxom serving girl came to their table with a pitcher of ale. She filled Lord M’s tankard, being sure to lean over him far enough for him to get an eyeful of her other very ample wares, very obviously on display. Victoria steamed, especially in light of his particular mood. But then when the girl gave her the same attention, she nearly choked. When the girl had left, Victoria found William was watching her with amusement.

“Now you know the trials of being a man,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.

“I admit there are some drawbacks to my choice of costume which I had not considered before,” she said with distaste. “But I did not notice the same repugnance in you.”

“Repugnance, no. But there is only one pair of breasts I long to see, and to fondle, and to suckle on. And they are not hers.”

She laughed, and felt the heat rising in her cheeks. “Such frank conversation now that we are married!” she whispered.

“I would much rather engage in the activity than discuss it, but as that is forbidden me now…”

“Not forbidden. Just delayed.”

“God, it feels like the same thing. You have no idea how bad I want you right now.”

“And I you,” she held his eyes over the edge of her tankard. “As soon as we are safe…”

“Yes. Oh God yes.”

They finished their meal and Lord M procured from the proprietor some additional provisions for their journey. They exited the Tabard Inn and found their horses waiting for them, refreshed after their own meal. Victoria fed Agnes one of her apples, and whispered endearments as the horse nuzzled her fondly. Then they mounted and were soon away South and East, back into the waiting arms of a still dark, pre-dawn night.

They did not notice that this time, they were being followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The subtitle of this chapter really should be "Into the Great Wide Open", which is another song by Tom Petty I absolutely adore. It made such a great chapter title, except the lyrics for "You Wreck Me" worked even better for our pair. 
> 
> Hang on! More is coming soon...


	40. Chapter 40--Dreamcatcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daybreak is imminent, and William and Victoria have cleared the city. But what new dangers await them in the wood and beyond? 
> 
> This is the first of a few chapters that feature a special cameo appearance by a young Cary Elwes as Brian of Medway. At least in the mind of the author...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “…Our battles they may find us  
> No choice may ours to be  
> But hold the banner proudly  
> The truth will set us free
> 
> My mind was called across the years  
> Of rages and of strife  
> Of all the human misery  
> And all the waste of life
> 
> We wondered where our God was  
> In the face of so much pain  
> I looked up to the stars above  
> To find you once again…”  
> (”Beneath a Phrygian Sky,” Loreena McKennitt, 2006).
> 
> “Hear my silent prayer  
> Heed my quiet call  
> When the dark and blue surround you
> 
> Step into my sigh  
> Look inside the light  
> You will know that I have found you.”  
> (”Dreamcatcher”, Secret Garden, 1999).

Chapter 40—Dreamcatcher

 

Fortunately, they had made it out of the city before dawn.

Unfortunately, the night was waning fast.

William could see the marginal lightening of the sky. The faintest glimmer of dawn rose in a sliver of light, rimming the horizon beyond the rolling hills. The servants of Whitehall would be stirring now. Within the hour, their erstwhile chambermaid would be knocking on the outer door, ready to light the fires and empty the chamber pots, and would receive no answer. Soon the alarm would be raised and the hunt would be on. They must find a place to go to ground now, quickly. A place they could shelter, hide the horses and themselves, until the night fell again and they dared stir forth.

He turned them in the direction of a line of trees just ahead, hoping it to be the start of a great forest. Such was what they needed if they were to have cover enough to be safe from the Queen’s men, which would be out in force before midday.

Cautiously, he led them in, one hand holding his reins, another resting on his sword hilt as the trees swallowed them up from behind. Though his sword would be of precious little use against arrows, which would undoubtedly be the weapon of choice in such a place.

“Stay close,” he whispered to her just the same.

The path he picked through was too narrow to ride abreast, so they went single file, himself ahead, all senses alert to his surroundings. Only the careful steps of Agnes behind him reassured him that all was well with Victoria.

The branches overhead were tall and dark against the sky, but for a time at least, William could see enough of the lightening sky that he continued to move them in a southerly direction. Presently they found a path of sorts through the trees, which made the going easier. But their progress was far from stealthy as the horses crunched through the thick layer of dead leaves beneath their feet. Dawn was now imminent, and the path ahead clearer in the filtering light. They must find a place to rest. Far enough into the trees that they could not be seen from the road or indeed found easily, yet easy to defend against man and wolves.

It seemed an impossible task.

He was weary in every bone, and he knew she was as well. They could not keep going forever, and indeed such a move was unwise in any case. Traveling by day invited trouble. Therefore, it seemed likely they would have to make do with what was available, and trust heaven for the rest.

Maybe a bit of water--a brook or a stream—would make a feasible place to make camp. Not ideal by any means, but at least feasible.

They carried on, he knew not how much longer, before his ears detected the unmistakable trickle of water over rocks just ahead. They found the place not much longer after that, and a bit of cleared ground ideal for a campsite. He called a halt, and they dismounted, hobbling their horses near the edge of the stream, giving their mounts a chance to drink and munch some of the soft grasses that grew alongside.

Victoria came to him wearily, wrapping her arms around him and sighing. “I’m so tired…”

“I know, My Love. This place is not exactly what we could wish for, but all things considered, it will have to do.”

They fished in their saddlebags and tucked into some of their rations. Cold cheese, a bit of bread, and an apple each, and they shared a small bottle of ale between them.

“Shall we make a fire?”

“No. I don’t know as yet how far in we are, and the last thing we need is to light a beacon to let all and sundry know where to look for us.”

“Well, at least I brought some blankets, and some linens,” Victoria said. “We can make a bed of sorts.”

She set about gathering some leaves together in a pile big enough for them both, then drapes the linen over it, creating a make-shift bed. Sitting down upon it she reaches up her hand to him with a smile.

“Will you join me, husband?”

He took her hand and kissed it, slowly and reverently.

“I’d be honored…wife.”

“It is not much of a marriage bed,” she whispered. But perhaps…”

He sat down carefully beside her, trying not to displace all of the leaves she had gathered and took her into his arms.

“We really should make more of a shelter. But it would take a long time.  And I confess that anything I could contrive here would at best do no more than keep the rain off. It would be of little use against any foe more substantial. But the trees are so dense here that it might be unnecessary, in any case. And it is fairly secluded after all. I think we shall be safe enough.”

“I know it is absurd,” she whispered, “But I always feel safe enough when you hold me this way.”

He wrapped his arms more tightly around her, feeling wholly inadequate. God, the trust she placed in him! He would give anything to be worthy of it. As it was, he offered her all the illusion of safety that he could with his arms.

She sighed against him, and he felt her whole body melt against his chest. He lay his head on top of hers, blinking back the tears he was grateful she could not see, and offered up his meager, and no doubt unwelcome prayer to heaven for their safety.

They lay down slowly, managing to keep some of the leaves bunched between them and the forest floor, and pulled the blankets over them.

“My darling girl,” he whispered softly, touching her cheek with his fingers, making her smile. He wondered as he gazed on her beautiful, precious face if this would be the last time he would ever hold her, the last time he would lie this way with her in his arms. If someone found them…

“I love you,” she returned, turning her cheek more fully into his hand, savoring his touch they way he did hers.

“How you gaze at me,” he whispered smiling, stroking her soft cheek with his thumb. “I think I will never understand how I ever won your love.”

She smiled into his eyes. “Nor I yours.”

“You could have had any man…” he said, his voice breaking on the words, smoothing an errant strand of hair behind her ear, his heart close to breaking with love for her. Their doom seemed so inevitable. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret anything. He savored every touch of hers, every second they drew breath that they were free and together this way. “Any man at all. Princes and Grand Dukes…the world was at your feet. They were all at your feet.”

“No. For I was made for you,” she said simply, and kissed his palm.

He gathered her into his arms tightly, finding her lips with his in a crushing kiss. Such words…it was enough to make him weep. How he wanted that to be true! How he wanted to give her a lifetime of love. How cruel fate seemed to give them only such a small time!

He kissed her with all the passion of his heart. Nonsensical girl—she should never have fallen for him! Never have allowed him to lead her to this end! But dear God, he loved her for it! Worshiped her for it…such a gift he could never deserve, never repay.

She had become his wife!

Her mouth opened on a sigh beneath his. Her soft lips parting for him, giving him entrance.

He took it, giving her his tongue, feeling his body come alive as she gasped, breathless with wanting him. Wanting more.

How much longer would he have, presuming that they survived this, before old age robbed him of the ability to love her? Before death itself claimed him, dragged him from her side? It would not be long enough. It could never be long enough!

He ravished her mouth, plundered it. Devouring…consuming…gave himself wholly and completely to her, offered up his very soul. Held no part of himself back. It was complete and utter surrender to the goddess in his arms. He kissed her like it was the last time he would ever kiss her in this life, pouring a lifetime of love and devotion into it, the lifetime he knew he could not give her. The children they would never have. The life that could never be theirs. The life he so longed to give her.

 _I’m sorry,_ his kiss said to her. _I’m so sorry Victoria. I want you to know…I want you to always remember…what I so wanted to give you, my darling. Oh my darling, darling girl…I hope you can forgive me. I hope you will always remember what your undeserving first husband wanted for you…and how deeply he loved you…I hope when the time comes, the memory of this will comfort you…let it wrap itself around you like my arms and keep you safe against all the world…_

She gasped against him, eyes opened in shock and concern as she broke the kiss, searching his eyes.

“Oh my love…” she whispered. “Oh my William…how you break my heart with your love,” she touched his face lightly with her fingers. “You are everything to me. Everything…” she captured his lips again with hers, winding her hands in his hair, making him shudder. “Do not fear. We will make it through this. You and I. Together…we are invincible.”

He lost himself in her kiss, deeply craving the comfort she offered, wanting more than anything to bury himself to the hilt inside of her, to feel her all around him, for her to hold him inside of her, where he too was safe and home in a place that was all their own, where nothing and no one else ever existed…

A thwacking sound in the tree trunk above him brought him abruptly back to earth.

He sat up in a start, reaching for his sword.

But found the sharp point of steel already at his throat.

“Stand,” commanded the man behind it. “Slow and easy. Don’t try to be a hero, or your little laddie dies.”

Another was pointing a bow and arrow, primed and ready to shoot, straight at Victoria.

He cursed himself in every language he knew. He’d let his guard down. And now it had cost them both their lives. He stood slowly, allowed the man to guide him away from their makeshift bed until his back was against a tree. At least they still thought Victoria was a boy. If they found out differently…

“Blimey…its a woman!” Said the man with the bow.

William cursed again. Profusely.

“Well well well,” said the other with the sword. “Here I was, thinking we’d interrupted a first class buggery in progress. Instead…ooh, what a juicy little wench you have there!”

William swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing almost against the point of the sword, and tried to think rationally.

“What do you want from us?” He asked calmly enough.

“Hain’t it obvious?” Sneered the man with the sword. “First, your gold. Followed by your ‘orses. And then…” he leered at Victoria. “Your wench.”

"What makes you think we have gold?"

"Oh you have gold.  We would not have bothered following you this far had you not."

"Following us?"

"Oh aye.  From the tavern in Southwark.  You was free enough with it there.  Freer than most. So I suspect you have a lot more of it beside.  And we wants it."

“And if I refuse?”

“If you refuse?” The swordsman repeated, mocking. “Then I ties you up, and lets you watch as we takes it all. Beginning with her. And when we’ve both had what we wants out of her, we takes the rest. And slits your throat.”

“Take the gold. And the horses. Do as you like with me. But I beg you to leave her in peace.”

He laughed again. “As if you has anything to say about it!” he pressed the point harder against William’s throat.

“No!” Victoria screamed. “No. I’ll…I’ll do whatever you ask, just please do not hurt him!”

“No!” His heart exploded. _No, oh God no. Not for me. I’m not worth it…_ he begged her with his eyes.

“Silence! Didn’t I already says you didn’t have no say in the matter? You will do as we ask, or we’ll slit her throat before your eyes.”

William watched in horror as the other man dropped the bow and jerked Victoria up off their bed of leaves and threw her on the ground as he began scrambling to free himself.

Everything. Everything in side of him screamed at him to move…to do something…say something!

But the tip of a steel blade was pointing into his throat. All he would accomplish by that would be his own death. And she would have to witness that, as well as…

All coherent thought ended.

 _Oh God_ , he begged, he prayed. _Please. Please for her sake…_

Victoria aimed a well-placed kick at her attacker, but he deflected it.

The sword at William’s throat touched his skin.

“Try that again, Luv, and your man dies!” His assailant screamed. “Be a good girl now. Lie still and spread your legs. Maybe if you’re good enough we might let him live…and you enjoy it.”

“No luv. Lie still for ‘im. I likes my women feisty. Fight me all you like. That’s a good girl…ohh yes!”

Victoria kicked and screamed and fought like a hellcat as the man covered her with his body, but he was too big for her. He had her overpowered, and pinned her, arms and legs flailing, body bucking, screaming on the ground.

William wanted to to tear the man limb from limb with his bare hands. Alternatively he wanted to run on the sword at his throat. It was all he deserved for letting this happen. But he couldn’t leave her here…not of his own accord. He deserved to live and see the pain his folly had cost her.  He owed her that at least...

Every scream of hers shredded his heart. He was to blame. He was to blame for it all! Oh God, Victoria! His chest was going like a bellows, his mind frantic. There must be something he can do! Anything! Could he grab the sword by the blade, and wrench it out of the man’s hands before he had time to respond? If the man watched, he might let his attention slack for just long enough…

But his assailant was far too attentive.

Then out of nowhere came a whoosh and a whump, followed by a grunt, and the sword at his throat slackened as the man before him dropped to his knees, an arrow in his back.

Another whump followed immediately, and the other man fell on top of Victoria, an arrow in his neck. Victoria screamed again and scrambled out from under him.

William lost no time in grabbing his attacker’s sword and dashing for Victoria, sweeping her behind him and trying to angle her towards the horses as yet another man stepped out into the clearing.

He was much cleaner than the other two had been, dressed in green tunic and brown tanned leather leggings—a very effective disguise considering the environment. His only weapon was a sword still sheathed and strapped to his waist. Two additional men appeared behind him, both holding bows.

The man in the middle put his hands up in a show of good faith.

“We are not your enemies,” he said. “We were passing through when we heard what sounded like trouble and came to investigate. Are you both unharmed?”

“Are you responsible for this?” He said, not answering, but indicating the carnage in the clearing.

“You seemed to be in need of assistance. I trust we did not intrude.”

“No. In fact I offer you our deepest, most heartfelt thanks.”

Victoria sobbed behind him, clutching at his jacket, pressing herself against his back. He could feel her shaking.

“I swear to you on my honor, I have no such intentions to repeat this course of action on you. You can safely drop your sword and attend to your lady.”

He didn’t drop his sword, but he swept his left arm around himself and pulled Victoria into his arms. She came to him shuddering, and buried her face in his shoulder.

“Are you all right?” He whispered, not taking his eyes off the new man.

He felt her nod.

“Yes,” she whispered. “He didn’t…”

William breathed a sigh of relief and drew her closer, kissing the top of her head. There was so much he wanted—needed—to say to her, but that would have to wait.

“Please, Sir, I assure you that you are both now quite safe. You may dispense with your sword.”

“What assurance do I have that we are safe?” William said, his voice sounding raw to his own ears. “I thought so before, and it was a mistake that nearly cost me more than my life is worth. I’ll be damned if I make the mistake again!”

“Understood,” the man said solemnly. He waived at his men. “Go. Secure the clearing.”

Both men nodded and ducked back into the trees both taking up opposite posts.

“Better?” Said the man.

“Better,” William said, eying the man carefully. He did not fully trust him, but cautiously he sheathed his sword and wrapping both arms around Victoria.

“I am called Brian,” the man said. “Brian of Medway. I am yeoman here. I patrol these forests. We try to keep them clear of bandits and outlaws, creating safe passage for pilgrims, like yourselves.”

“I must say I am most grateful, Sir.”

He waived a hand. “I am only too glad we were passing through. I have never seen either of you before, and your speech marks you as not from around these parts. What is your business here?”

“We are…but simple travelers. Weary pilgrims, as you say. Simply passing through.”

“Odd. Most simple pilgrims stay in hostelrys or inns. There is an excellent one not half a mile gone. Had they no room?”

William huffed a laugh. “Perhaps it was not entirely suited to our needs.”

The man in green laughed, white teeth flashing in his head. “I see.” His eyes rested on Victoria, and William saw them light with interest.

“As the lady’s normal wardrobe was also not entirely suited to your needs, it would seem.”

“My wife finds riding in her normal gowns tiresome. And I fear I am too indulgent a husband to insist.”

“Your wife? Indeed?” He tilted his head to one side, regarding them both. “How long have you been married?”

“Ohh…not long, I suppose, would you say, Darling?”

“Not nearly long enough,” she said, clutching at his doublet.

The man in green threw back his head and laughed.

“I must congratulate you Sir. And offer you my most sincere felicitations on your nuptials, as well as your choice of brides. For what man would not long to hear such sweet words pass the lips of his wife? You have done well for yourself, clearly. Even if you did have to steal her away, and quite recently too. Or am I wrong?”

“You are correct that we have not been married long, and that we are in a great deal of haste.”

“And if your bloodshot eyes are to be believed, you have not had much rest this night.”

“No indeed.”

“Then it is your lucky day, in more ways than one. For I may be in a position to offer you even more assistance.”

“Assistance?”

“You, Sir, are on the run. Your direction would indicate you are headed south, along the Dover Road, but not quite. Because the road is that way,” he nodded with his chin to the West, “and you are here in the wood instead. You’re not staying in inns because presumably they are too easy to trace. So you have been forced to take your chances in the wild, but you are inexperienced in such matters, if you will forgive me the observation.”

William shrugged. “I cannot fault you for it, I'm afraid."

“Therefore you have put yourselves at great risk. For someone is hunting you in earnest, and you are also easy prey to any bandits or highwaymen that inhabit these woods,” he crossed his arms, indicated the bodies of their erstwhile attackers. “Unfortunately, these two wretches are not the only ones. Not to mention you have not the faintest idea of how to navigate these woods safely. If you carry on like this, then chances are you both will either be dead or captured by sunup tomorrow.”

“What then do you propose?” William asked.

“My assistance. I have a sizable camp nearby which is well guarded. I can offer you food. Rest. And protection enough to keep you alive and unseen all the way to Dover—which I assume is your destination. It also as it happens, is mine. You can simply join our ranks and undertake the journey with us. There is greater safety, after all, in numbers. And presumably those who seek you will seek you alone, not as a member of a larger group.”

William nodded, absorbing this information. Then he raised his eyes to the other man. “And what do you wish in return?”

Brian shrugged. “Gold enough to provide for such services, which I’m sure you will agree, are valuable.”

“How do I know we can trust you? What is to stop you from taking our coin and leaving us, or stealing from us, or worse.”

“My word, Sir. And the cooling corpses of your enemies at your feet. Had I not happened along the two of you would be suffering most egregiously right now. Would you not agree?”

“You could be a rival band of outlaws.”

“We could. That is a valid point. But I think you must own that even if we are, we are far more cordial than these two were. I have not yet raised my sword to your throat after all, nor threatened or menaced either of you in any way. And I think you will agree that should I have chosen to do so, I would have had the upper hand from the start, and would have exercised it most assuredly by now. For there are the three of us, and only the two of you. Not to mention I sent my men out to patrol the perimeter of this place and insure that no further surprise interruptions shall interfere with us here. I trust my behavior thus far speaks for my honorable intentions.”

“We accept,” said a firm, feminine voice from the vicinity of his shoulder.

“What?” said William, turning to her.

“Accept his terms,” Victoria said clearly. “He is entirely correct. If he intended us harm, he would have inflicted it upon us by now.”

Before his eyes, he watched her spine straighten, and her unfold from his arms like the bloom of a flower, straightening to her full height, adopting once again the posture of a queen, standing erect and alone, as if she were back in her throne room. 

In a place so far gone from where they were now, that William almost could believe it all a dream.  His heart was in his throat watching her. He swallowed hard.

“My love you do not realize…”

“He has saved us already once. And he has granted us his word we shall be safe. We may have need of the security he can offer.”

“But…”

“I believe him to be truthful. Accept his terms.”

He looked at her a long time. “Are you entirely sure?”

“I am.” She said, looking at him with determination and fortitude in her eyes. “We have no other options, William. For indeed, we are lost on our own. You know this to be true as well as I.”

“And if he takes our money and our horses, imprisons us and then hands us over for ransom?”

“Then our fate is the same in any case.” She sighed. “We are both of us out of our depth out here. You know this to be true. You are brave, and resourceful, and strong My Darling, and I love you for all those things. But if we try to do this alone, I fear we shall be captured, or something worse shall befall us. I admit, to accept we take a chance. But I believe myself to be a rather good judge of character, and I believe his to be honorable. So I am prepared to believe that Providence has sent him to us, and to act accordingly on that belief.”

“I thought tonight I had lost you. I had allowed the worst of all fates to fall on you. It nearly killed me where I stood,” he whispered, stroking her face. “Oh my darling girl, I trust no one when it comes to your safety but myself, and yet I know I am not sufficient to keep you safe on my own.”

“Through no fault of your own,” she said into his eyes. “You are not to blame.”

“But I will be, should anything like it happen again.”

“It shall not. For I believe if we accept his offer, we shall be delivered safe to Dover.”

“I should never have embarked on this,” he said, turning her hand over in his, “I should have relinquished you. You would have been safe then—”

“I would never have forgiven you if you had done so,” she said simply. “I would far rather take my chances with you out here than to submit to what was to befall me. Regardless. There is no point in such recriminations. It is done now, and I will never be sorry for it. To whatever end…husband.” Her blue eyes, so determined and so brave, infused him with that same infectious confidence he found at one time contagious and maddeningly naive.

Without another word she reached inside her tunic and pulled out a sack of gold.

“No, wait!”

But his words came too late. She tossed it past him and it landed with a jingling whump in the leaves at Brian’s feet.

He bent to pick it up, hoisted it into his hands testing its weight, and looked back at its owner with renewed interest. “I am touched by your faith, Madam. This will more than adequately compensate us. We have a deal.” He whistled sharply, mimicking the call of a bird. In only a few moments, his companions returned to the clearing. “You are both witnesses to this transaction. Henceforth, these two are under my protection. Anything happens to them, the men responsible will pay the penalty of treason.”

“Sir,” they both said, tipping their caps deferentially.

“Gather your things and mount up as quickly as you can,” said Brian to William and Victoria. “Daybreak is upon us. The sooner we reach camp, the sooner you shall be safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was Victoria right to trust Brian, do you think? As always, I love your comments. More will be coming soon!


	41. Chapter 41--Neverending Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and William set out with Brian of Medway for his camp. But with a price on their head, are they truly safe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The road now leads onward  
> As far as can be  
> Winding lanes  
> And hedgerows in threes  
> By purple mountains  
> And round every bend  
> All roads lead to you  
> There is no journey's end.
> 
> Here is my heart and I give it to you  
> Take me with you across this land  
> These are my dreams, so simple and few  
> Dreams we hold in the palm of our hands…
> 
> The road now leads onward  
> And I know not where  
> I feel in my heart  
> That you will be there  
> Whenever a storm comes  
> Whatever our fears  
> The journey goes on  
> As your love ever nears
> 
> Here is my heart and I give it to you  
> Take me with you across this land  
> These are my dreams, so simple and few  
> Dreams we hold in the palm of our hands…”  
> (”Neverending Road (Amhran Duit)”, Loreena McKennitt, 2006)

Chapter 41—Neverending Road

 

Victoria bit her lip as she gazed at William. His face was again set in hard lines, and she feared he must be very cross with her. Had she been too trusting, she wondered? She was used to following his council in all things. Used to his gut reaction always being right.

She prayed fervently this time it was not.

Brian did not ride, but strolled beside them, long-legged and loose in his gait like a man used to walking long distances. The other two men, now mounted on the horses that their erstwhile attackers left behind, melted into the trees and she knew were following their progress unseen.

As dawn grew brighter, she could now clearly see the man in whose hands she’d placed both of their lives. He was tall and fair, with hair as golden and shining as sunlight and eyes as deep blue as the sea. His was a handsome, winning face--youthful, despite the fact she felt he was older than he looked--with a strong brow, a firm jaw, and a sensuously full pink mouth. His body was well-formed and gave the impression of power and strength despite the leanness of his build. His eyes were sharp and intelligent, and there was a charisma about him that came naturally to a man of authority. He was used to commanding others, used to being master in his own world. That such a man should be only a yeoman though, she found hard to believe. There was a nobility about him that defied his modest rank in life.

Had she placed her trust in him based upon his good looks alone, she wondered?

Indeed, she hardly understood the impulse that had led her to toss one of her coin bags to his feet. The other was still safely in her tunic, tucked between her bound breasts. William too, still had gold on him as well, so they were by no means destitute. They still had means enough to barter with, or bribe, and plenty left to book the necessary passage to France. Once they were safely there, then they should even still have a little left to establish themselves somehow again, albeit modestly, without having to sell any other appreciable assets in the bargain.

It was true, they had taken a considerable risk trusting this man, and the gold she had tossed him had been substantial. But if Brian of Medway’s word turned out to be true, then they will have secured for themselves an entirely better form of disguise than they could ever have devised on their own, even with her riding incognito. Moving as two members of a larger group would be far less easy to track then the progress of two people on their own. His proposal had made perfectly good sense—provided one’s companions were trustworthy. And after what had happened in the clearing, she was only too happy to pay whatever price it took to insure their safe passage to Dover.  What price was too great, after all, for their future life together?  The sum she had given him was small in comparison to what his service might provide for them. 

She only hoped now her trust had not been mislaid.

“I shall keep your secrets,” Brian had told them as they set off, “have no fear on that score. The others of our party need not know the lad among us is actually your wife. So long as you both remain discreet, it is quite possible that no one will ever be any the wiser.”

Yes, everything about him had seemed noble and true and trustworthy. Her heart told her that she had made the right choice. But what of William?

At last she caught William’s eye, and he gave her a rueful smile.  Her heart unclenched. He was not cross with her after all. But he looked…crestfallen. The incident in the clearing had been hard on him. Her beloved husband…what must he have suffered, watching at sword point as that man had tried…had tried…

She hiccuped, gasping for air as the memory suddenly reasserted itself. She saw again the sword at her beloved William’s throat, then her assailant’s disgusting, leering visage…felt the stench of his rotten breath on her face, his weight pressing her to the ground as he scrabbled for the top of her trousers, his erection pressing obscenely against her…and then his head had given a little jerk, and he fell on top of her…the arrow sticking hideously out of the front of his throat…blood dripping from its tip, mouth working, filled with blood even as his eyes grew vacant...

“Arthur?” William said, gaze sharpening with concern. “Are you all right?”

She snapped back to the present with a jolt.  Shaking off the horror of the memory, she simply nodded, giving him a weak smile. They had gone back to pretending she was a boy the moment they had set off. Victoria had to remember to answer to her new name…and to speak as little as possible.  She focused her eyes momentarily on William, on his beloved face, trying to slow her breathing. She would recover.  She knew she would. Just as soon as she could be quite alone with him.  When they were safe at last, and she were curled in his arms.

William’s eyes widened with concern and then with understanding. His shoulders slumped in the saddle and his expression was heavy with sorrow and regret.

She shook her head at him. _No, Dearest,_ her eyes told him. _Do not blame yourself. You must not ever blame yourself._

His expression shuttered, and he dropped his eyes to his saddle horn. Yes, he was blaming himself. God how she needed to go to him! How she needed to wrap herself around him and reassure him, with kisses and with her body. She alone could make this better. His need of her was palpable. To say nothing of her need of him.

“Not much further now,” said Brian in a gentle tone from her other side.

She turned to see him watching her intently, a look of compassion in his startling blue eyes.  She smiled at him in gratitude, and he returned it somewhat sadly, and she felt she saw in his eyes complete understanding of the situation between her and William. She felt herself blush a little. His eyes were bottomless. And kind.

Yes, she had done well to trust him. She felt it more strongly than ever now.

The day had well and truly broken by the time they arrived at what was indeed a campsite. He cleared them through a defended perimeter with a bird call signal and they came to the center of a circle. The camp was well established, with a cooking fire at its center complete with a large, bubbling pot in place, and a series of small, crude shelters clustered around, consisting of a large sheet of canvas propped up with tree branches to cover the sleeping men. There were horses too, corralled off to one side with rope, and a large, four-wheeled caravan-styled cart, crudely carved of wood and square in shape, with it’s back door near the fire. There were men milling about everywhere, looking as though they were just rising to face their day.

Brian had moved to the center of the circle, where his presence already commanded the men’s attention.

“Hear me,” he said in a loud, clear voice, turning in a semi-circle and addressing the camp at large. “Two guests have come among us. Lord Alfred Tennyson,” he said, indicating William, “and his page, Arthur.” He indicated her. “They will be joining us for the journey south. Their keep is paid in full, and will be shared accordingly,” at this, he held up Victoria’s bag of coins over his head, for all to see. “But let every man hear this—they are my guests! They are not to be trifled with, or endangered in any way. I have given them my word that they will have safe passage with us to Dover. And safe passage they will have! Should any man violate these terms, his life is forfeit, and he will die the death of a traitor!

“Therefore, receive them into our brotherhood accordingly, with honor. They are to be fed and sheltered, defended as brothers. And let no man set hand on their belongings, or their horses. They have paid us most generously. We have no need of further compensation.” He turned his blue gaze to Victoria and smiled. “They have had a long and weary night’s ride, with no rest. So today, we shall not venture far. We break camp at sundown, and henceforth, travel only by night. So let each man find rest as can be managed, and prepare for the journey south this eve, so our new brothers may take rest and recover their strength for the journey ahead.” He gave them a bow. “Come. Have some breakfast, my friends. Then, you shall have my berth, there,” he indicated the four-wheeled covered wagon. “It will be adequate I hope, to suit your needs,” he flashed William a look of meaning that made Victoria blush again.

By tacit agreement, they had all decided Victoria should speak only if absolutely necessary, so it was William who spoke. Grudgingly, she thought.

“We offer you our—grateful--thanks,” he said, “It should do admirably well.”

Brian’s full mouth quirked up at one end, and he bowed again. Looking Victoria straight in the eyes he smiled his very nice smile again, displaying beautifully white teeth, and turned to join his companions without another word, leaving them at last on their own.

* * *

“I don’t like this,” William said, climbing into the wagon and closing the sack cloth curtain behind him that stood for a door. It was mostly opaque, but still slightly transparent so one could see the goings on of the camp through the loosely woven fabric. He imagined it had to be slightly transparent from the other side too.

“Are you angry with me?” Her voice sounded small in the darkness behind him.

He went to her and took her at last in his arms. “No,” he said, kissing her softly. “Oh no, my love. I could never be angry with you. And in any case, so far at least, your instincts have seemed to have been correct. He seems an honorable man.”

She softened against him in relief. “I thought you were angry with me.”

“No. I am only sorry I have not done a better job of providing for you.” He smiled at her, or rather he tried to. But the scene in the wood had not stopped plaguing him. “Oh Victoria, my love…I feel I have failed you.”

“Shhh…” she said, burrowing against him. “William you must not blame yourself.”

“But I do. I was foolish to let my guard down—”

“And what did you propose to do instead? Stand guard over me all hours of the day and night, never taking rest for yourself? And how long do you think we should have lasted with you so entirely exhausted, my love?”

He sighed. Raised a hand helplessly and dropped it onto his thigh. “I don’t know. All I know is, when that…scoundrel grabbed you, I thought—”

“Do not say it. There is no need. We are safe now. God has provided.”

He smiled thinly. “Yes. So it seems He has. At least for a time. But Victoria—you do know that as a yeoman warden of these forests, ultimately Brian of Medway is an agent of the Queen?” He smiled at her gently. “If he learns who we truly are, he will not be able to shelter us…no matter how he might wish to.”

He watched her process this. She raised her eyes to his. “You knew this to be true. That is why you did not want—”

He sighed. “Yes. That is why. But he does not yet know who we are. And there is some hope he might not learn it, as we are moving from place to place quickly enough. And, as you have quite rightly pointed out, we were out of our depth alone. I suppose we have a much better chance of survival this way. Perhaps we shall come through this safe after all.”

“Yes,” she whispered, gazing intently into his eyes. “I believe we shall. Oh my love…” Then without another word she covered his lips with hers, and he sank with a sigh into her waiting arms.

* * *

It was evening when Victoria awoke to find herself still wrapped warmly in her husband’s arms. She leaned back into him as far as she could, covering his hands where they lay across her middle with hers. Their lovemaking had been discreet, but urgent. They had needed each other desperately. Oh, would she ever stop needing him so? Every moment they had ever spent together was a moment stolen away, as if their love was something shameful and wrong. But nothing had ever felt more right to her than William. And now they were married, and the marriage was officially consummated. By rights she should be able to relax into her new status. But of course she could not. Not until they were free of this country and its current queen.

Oh, how she longed for home! Home with William. She wanted to be at Brocket Hall. Wrapped in his arms, in his bed, safe and secure and comfortable. Where none could disturb them, let alone harm them. She sighed, and drowsed against him, loving the waft of his warm breath against her neck and shoulder, the soft sighing of his gentle snores and the reassuring pulse of his great heart against her shoulder. The box they were sleeping in was in no way comfortable, but with their own linens and bedrolls they had made it their own little nest, and the heat of their bodies mingled beneath the blankets wrapped her in a cocoon of perfect cozy warmth that belonged to them alone. She wanted to stay like this forever. Here wrapped in his arms. Safe. Loved. Home.

She lay her cheek against his forehead where he was nestled against her. His hair was soft and damp against her skin. God he had such beautiful hair. When so many men of his age had lost so much of theirs, William’s hair stayed full and dark. She pressed her lips against it. Nuzzling him, feeling as though her heart would burst from loving her beautiful man.

Still it was coming time for them to awaken. She could hear movement in the camp outside the wagon. With a sigh, she knew the time had come for her to dress. Should someone find them this way, her disguise would be for nothing, and they would be in greater danger again. She closed her eyes for one, beautiful moment. One moment more to savor this. Then, with the greatest reluctance, she gently planted a kiss on the bridge of his nose, disentangled herself from his arms, covered him where he lay and began to dress. As she did so, voices outside drew her attention.

“In the tavern today, I heard the strangest tale.”

It was Brian’s voice. She crept closer to the canvas cover of their wagon. Sure enough, it was. She could see his silhouette through the loose weave of the curtain that served for their door, sitting by the fire with his back to her, talking to another man.

“They say that Queen Bess and the entirety of the English court is in uproar,” he continued in a hushed voice.

Victoria froze.

“What of it?” said the other disinterestedly.

“They say that the Queen’s favorite—the newly made Earl of Leicester—has run away in the night with his cousin, the intended bride of the Earl of Warwick with a plan of elopement.”

Victoria’s breath hitched in sudden fear. What if Lord M was right? Brian was a clever man. It would not take him long to put the pieces together. She shoved her fist into her mouth and tried to steady her breathing.

The other man laughed. “Well. That’d do it, I reckon! Her Majesty don’t like her favorites as to marry other women.”

“Especially not women who are betrothed to another favorite. In this case, no other than Sir Robert Dudley, who has also just been made into Warwick.”

“Robert Dudley, is it? He hain’t no man to be trifled wiff, neiver. Leicester must have a death wish, he must.”

“Or, he was so strongly in love with the Lady in question—the Viscountess Alexandrina of Prussia--that he could not bear to let her go to another man. They say he argued with Her Majesty over the betrothal until she flew into an uncommon rage.”

“She must be a beauty then.”

“Oh she is. By all accounts,” he said a little too quickly. “A very winning creature indeed. They say Dudley was taken with her the moment he clapped eyes on her, and has loved her with an almost fever ever since.”

“A regular Helena-r of Troy, then, eh?”

“So it would seem,” said Brian thoughtfully. “And now the hunt is on. They are scouring London. Unless they are found very soon they will scour the outer regions as well.”

“Any notions of where they’ve gone?”

“Not so far. They can find no trace of them. No one has seen a man and a lady matching their descriptions at all it would seem. It is as if they have vanished, without a trace.”

Victoria sighed deeply.

“Think there might be a juicy reward to come, eh? For anyone as has information to sell?”

“Possibly. I do not envy them should they be caught, though. The combined wrath of the Queen and Dudley will be a firestorm.”

“Well, what do they expect and all?  To run from Her Majesty is foolhardy. More so if you’ve just been made a bloomin’ Earl!”

“It is treason. Pure and simple. And favorite or not, I fear very much the new Earl of Leicester will pay the price for it with his head.”

Victoria shoved her fist far as it would go into her mouth and curled up into a ball of agony. _No!_ she prayed. _Dear God in heaven, do not let it be so!_

“But Her Majesty do dote on her favorites. P’raps she’ll forgive him.”

“It depends. Upon the manner of their capture and their status. She does dote on her favorites, it is true. But she is also her father’s daughter, and with a temper to match. She does not like being gainsaid, or played for a fool, and that is the material point.  I fear Leicester has pushed far beyond the bounds of forgiveness.  Particularly if he has married the Viscountess expressly against the Queen's wishes.  Even if they should make it out of England, I’m sure that the Queen will have emissaries and spies sent out to all corners of the earth before it’s all said and done. The poor, tragic lovers will hardly be safe anywhere.”

Victoria doubled over and bit down hard on her hand.

“You sound as if you sympathize.”

“I suppose I do. It’s a hard thing to fall in love with a woman you cannot have, no matter what. Your heart and hers cannot be denied and yet, you cannot be together either. It is a life of misery for all concerned. I do not blame them for running away. For trying their luck, anyway. Were I in his shoes, I suppose I should have done the same.”

“I should not have. A woman is a woman. You can’t have one, find another. That’s what I always say. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. No cause for fighting over one, no matter how juicy a wench she may be. Especially if you’re an Earl. There’s others like her, as free as you please. Find them instead.”

“Spoken like a man who has never been in love,” Brian said with a laugh, and Victoria heard him clap his companion on the back with a beefy smack of the hand. “One day you will understand, my friend. One day.”

“Not bloody likely,” the other said scoffing. “I find plenty as suits my needs at Madame Featherston’s. They’re all alike anyway, once you douse the candles. What’s the fuss, I always say.”

Brian laughed again. “Oh my friend…it is not the same thing at all. Still. There’s bound to be trouble if they are not to be found in the city. So. We leave tonight and head south as quickly and quietly as possible. With luck we will stay out of their line of vision. The last thing I want is trouble with the crown.”

“I says amen to that, Sur.”

Victoria could hardly breathe. Here at least, was something. Brian did not sound as though he was quick to deliver them up. She gazed at William, still sleeping peacefully beside where she now sat, dressed. The long fans of his eyelashes brushed his cheeks, and in his repose, the sharp lines of his face were softened, giving him that childlike look she adored. He must have been a beautiful child, she thought. To have grown into such a divine man.

 _Her_ divine man. The man who owned her heart. Oh to think of him being captured and…and…!

Oh, she should have stayed and wed Dudley! She could not bear what would happen now! How could she bear it? They had been foolish—foolish! There would have been another way…an affair perhaps…something…anything but this doom they had now brought onto themselves. Oh, she would die! She would surely die! She could not bear anything happening to him! She would die beside him! She swore it in her heart. Nothing would draw her from his side! Nothing.

She sniffed, rather more loudly than she meant to, and he stirred.

“What’s wrong?” He said from the gathering shadows. “Victoria?”

But before she could respond, the curtain of their wagon was drawn back. Brian himself stood there, blocking them both from the view of anyone else.

“Bind your hair tight to your head, and put this on over it,” he whispered to Victoria, handing her a black scarf. “You cannot rely on always wearing your cloak to shield your hair. And at the earliest opportunity try and dirty your face. It is far to delicate to pass even as a young boy. Never underestimate the value of a bit of filth when it comes to a good disguise,” he said with a wink. “Prepare yourselves. We will leave soon.” And with that, he shut the curtain again and was gone.

* * *

They set out not an hour later, the men packing and loading various camp equipment into the cart he and Victoria had vacated. Victoria had told William hastily about the conversation she’d overheard. Her distress was so great he had a time settling her. His poor brave girl. He prayed fervently for her safety yet again, no matter the end prepared for himself. Dudley’s love was so passionate, surely, that it would shield her from harm. And if it did not, he suspected Brian might. He had seen his eyes grow soft as they rested on Victoria. There was no doubt in his mind that their sanctuary among this merry little band was due in no small proportion to that. It might serve to shield her further, should anything happen to himself. Still. He’d prefer strongly not to have to entrust her to either of them.

He stole a look at her. Again she rode tall and proud in the saddle, her cloak pulled low over her features. But she had taken Brian’s advice to heart and dirtied her face as well as bound and wrapped her hair. In case of trouble, those details might just be the saving of her. His estimation of Brian of Medway grew. The man was canny, to be sure. As well as honorable, it seemed. Yes. He supposed they had had no choice in this matter, but all things considered, they’d seemed to toss their lot in with a good man. He just hoped their luck held till they reached France.

Victoria and he rode in the center of the large group, many of whom bristled with weaponry. If it came to a fight…but then, what man among them would fight the crown’s agents for a pair of men they did not know, no matter how well they’d been paid? No. Their best defense by far was anonymity, as well as riding in a large party of well-armed men. To be sure no highwayman or rag-tag band of ruffians would take on so large and well-defended a force. Yes, he supposed they were as safe as they could be, given the circumstances.

They made good time at least. And now that they were in such a large group, they could travel the road safely, which made their progress the greater. They rode all night, stopping only to water and rest the horses as needed and for various members of their party to disappear into the trees for a bit of necessary business. And if anyone noted that he accompanied his squire every time the lad went off, no one said a word about it. 

They avoided all villages and signs of man, and stopped just before daybreak, making camp deep in another forest, just the other side of the Medway bridge, out of the line of sight of Rochester Castle.

“There is no need to fear,” Brian had said aside to him quietly. “Rochester is not occupied at the moment.”

“Oh? How do you know this?”

“Because I am the one who ordinarily occupies it. And as I am here…” he inclined his head.

“But did you not tell me you were a yeoman?”

“I did, and I am. My father was warden here and now so am I. But I prefer to take a more direct approach. Sitting about all day cooped up inside a castle does not appeal to me. So, I ride my district instead. Enforcing law wherever it is necessary. And the castle right now is vacant. Elizabeth, I suspect, has no real use for it at the moment. But it is nice to know it is here, in case one needs a handy fortress.  We would use it ourselves, only it would cause far too much attention on our party, which I do not think you would wish right now.”

Lord M had assented to this assessment.

Camp that morning was silent, and again, Brian offered up his wagon for them both. How much the man had worked out about who they truly were it was hard to tell. If he knew what a magnet of danger he had pulled into his circle, why did he not charge them more gold? Or toss them out entirely?

There could be only one reason why.

“No,” he whispered to The One Reason Why, as she was about to take her head scarf off and loosen her hair for sleep. “Keep it on. We must stay dressed as we are, for we will have no warning should danger come upon us.”

They lay in each other’s arms, offering each other what comfort could be had in the touching and kissing and holding of one another. But they did not make love, for William could not risk being in a compromised position should anything happen.

The day progressed fairly peacefully. Brian had passed food into the back of the wagon for them. He did not think it safe for them to venture out in full daylight. Further evidence to add to William’s growing suspicion that Brian did at least suspect who they might actually be.

The following night passed much the same way, and they camped near Canterbury, but again, Victoria and William went to ground during the daylight hours in the wagon. That afternoon, a scout named Tom returned from town with some news.

“Soldiers,” he said breathlessly. “All through the town. Every jack of them looking for that pair what ran away from the Queen’s court. The bloody Earl of Leicester, no less, and his cousin, her who was betrothed to Robert Dudley!”

“Is there a reward?” Brian asked calmly. Too calmly, William thought, listening through the canvas.

“Aye. A hundred gold sovereigns to anyone who’s information leads to their capture.”

William nearly choked.

“That's a king's ransom!  The Queen must want them back rather badly,” Brian remarked.

“They say Warwick is out looking for her himself!”

“Dudley, you mean? Oh dear, oh dear. The poor bastard and his lady wife. Are they to have no peace at all?”

“The whole countryside is roused. We should get goin. Else we might attract visitors.”

“Agreed and we shall. Soon as it gets dark."

“They say he’s a tall distinguished man, and she a small woman, uncommon pretty. Both with dark hair.”

William fought his rising panic, but gripped the hilt of his sword with one hand. On his other side was Victoria, nestled against him, her whole body tight with fear.

“Thank you. We will keep our eyes peeled.” 

William heard Tom scamper off.  As soon as he was alone in the clearing, Brian rose to his feet and came to the wagon.

Through the curtain he said, “You heard?”

“Yes,” William returned.

“Its you, isn’t it? The ones they’re looking for.”

“Yes,” he answered truthfully.

The curtain peeled back, a brilliant blue eye peaking in on them.

“My God man. I have to hand it to you--you have bollocks,” he said to William with a bow, “Of course, I can see why you did it,” he said softly, looking at Victoria. “You My Lady…I have but only one question for you. Are you happy with your choice? You do not wish to be returned to your betrothed?”

“No,” she shook her head vehemently. “I would rather die first!”

William turned to her in alarm.

“Has Dudley got the pox then?” Brian said with a smile. “I had heard he was rather popular with the ladies.”

“Not this one,” she said, nuzzling into William’s side and wrapping both arms around his.

“Tell me. Are you really cousins? Or was that another ruse as well, My Lord Leicester?”

William smiled ruefully. “It was I’m afraid.”

“Your caution is understandable.  It is probably why you have stayed alive and eluded capture thus far, along with My Lady's very clever disguise. However I would have your real names. Both of you.”

“Lamb,” he said with a sigh. “William Lamb.”

“Alexandrina,” she replied. Still not giving him her true name.

Brian nodded and his hand gripped the canvas as he sighed, his eyes going wide and soft as he gazed at her. “Dear God, but you are lovely.  Even dressed as you are. I can see why you are at the center of this little melodrama. I can only imagine your beauty were you properly attired, Countess, or at least I assume that is your title. You are rightfully married now?”

William nodded, rubbing a hand down his face. “Yes. With the marriage license to prove it.”

"Well."  Brian nodded in turn.  "What's done is done."

“What are you going to do with us?” Victoria asked.

His eyes landed gently on her, and he gave her a little smile.

“See you safe to Dover,” he whispered, “As I faithfully promised. And as you paid me for.” He turned back to William. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t envy you the love of such an angelic creature. I admire your courage and your determination. I hope it does not cost you your head.” And with that, he was gone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rochester Castle, which sits perched on the banks of the River Medway, was actually unoccupied during this time period, or at least there are no records of its occupancy. It seemed fitting therefore that Brian of Medway might have been its Constable. :) 
> 
> More is coming soon! As always, I love your comments!


	42. Chapter 42--The Eyes of a Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William and Victoria continue their flight to Dover, with the help of Brian and his men. Will they make it safely or be found out along the way?
> 
> Slight heat advisory posted. Not much, but in the interest of full disclosure, there is a bit.
> 
> Also this narration has a good many breaks and restarts. I played with creating new chapters for some but in the end, decided no, these sections, though a bit broken, nevertheless belonged together. There is a great deal of ground covered here fairly quickly. Hopefully though it will be easy to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"From the moment she looked my way. I was so hypnotized_   
>  _Should I show how I feel, she's the magnet, I'm steel_   
>  _The eyes of a woman, there's nowhere to run_   
>  _The eyes of a woman_
> 
>  
> 
> _In the arms of an angel, in a dangerous disguise_  
>  _Love's a blue fascination_  
>  _It's a mystery that burns, takes a lifetime to learn_  
>  _The eyes of a woman, there's nowhere to run_  
>  _The eyes of a woman, my fears come undone…_
> 
>  
> 
> _Nowhere to run…”_  
>  _(Journey, 1986)._

Chapter 42—The Eyes of a Woman

 

They set out quickly as soon as it was dark, Brian’s men riding in a tighter phalanx around them than before. They had debated whether or not Victoria would be safer riding inside the cart, but Victoria would not hear of it, so Brian had positioned her precisely in the middle of all the riders, and if he ordered them to ride more tightly around the young page, none of them questioned why.

William angled his mount to ride beside Brian. There was something he needed to know.

“Why?” He said simply.

Brian did not take his eyes from the road. “I should have thought that I had made at least part of that clear.”

“True enough. But there is more to it than that, isn’t there?” He pitched his voice low. “You put yourself at great risk, knowingly offering us aid.”

Brian sighed. “Perhaps I understand your predicament all too well,” he said quietly.

William did not press him for more. It was as he suspected then.

“I too loved a woman once, great enough to die for her,” his companion said at last. “But I never got the chance. She died herself giving birth to my stillborn son. So you see—she died for me instead.” He turned his tortured eyes to William.

“I’m sorry,” William said.

“Do not be. That is the way of things, after all. There was nothing anyone could have done.”

“How long ago?”

“Four years, six months and three days.” He said simply, glancing at William. “Yes. Every hour I feel her loss. You love your Countess the same way, I think. I know what watching her marry another would have done to me. It is so typical of the injustice of this life to at once give you a woman who loves and fulfills you so completely, and then immediately snatch her out of your grasp. If it had been my Mary that Dudley had marked for his own, I would have done the same as you.”

“Still. You put yourself and your men at great personal risk to aid us.”

“If I cannot give my life for my woman, I might as well offer it up for yours.”  He shrugged.  "I care not for it in any case."

“I wonder if your men feel the same.”

“My men will do as I tell them to.”

“What about the reward?”

“They cannot miss a reward when they do not know it is available to them,” he hissed, so quiet William could hardly hear him. “Your identities are safe with me. But you are correct. It might be hard for some of the men if they knew who we were transporting. So you must keep up your end of the bargain. Her best defense is her disguise.”

He nodded. “Agreed.”

“Rest easy, Sir. I have no intention of giving up either of you. And with a bit of cunning and skill, and hopefully the hand of Providence, we will get you to Dover, and with God’s speed, to safety in France.”

They made camp while still under the cover of an early predawn sky. Silently and urgently, the men constructed their tents. There was little conversation, and only if necessary. Whatever Brian had told his men, they knew that stealth and secrecy were the order of the day. A large watch was established around the perimeter of the camp, Brian himself taking part in it. When William offered to join the rotation he waived him off.

“While you may be handy with a blade, you are no archer. And skill with a bow is needed here as well as with the sword.” More quietly he whispered, “Your lady wife has need of you, in any case. She will want the comfort of your arms. We are well prepared here. Fear not. Should we come under attack, you will have plenty of warning. And should there be time enough, you are to grab her and your horses and get as far away as you can. Then once they have searched us and satisfied themselves you are not here, they will leave us in peace and we will meet up again and continue on our way with no further hindrance.”

It was a sound plan, he had to admit, albeit a rather desperate one. He returned somewhat guiltily to his bride and curled himself around her, until she sighed with contentment and drifted off to sleep in his arms.

But William was finding sleep elusive.

He stroked the line of her arm thoughtfully, his heart in his throat. Every moment he spent with her could be his last. He breathed out on a ragged sigh. Just to hold her this way—just to feel her sigh against him, her body heavy with contentment and trust—made his heart full to overflowing. He smiled and planted a soft kiss in her hair. He wasn’t sure he’d be granted enough time to ever lose the sense of wonder that occurred to him with that thought.

She turned in his arms, restless, rolling to her other side, now with her cheek pressed against his chest, nestling against him with a deep sigh, a puff of moist, warm air against his body, her free hand dropping to his waist.

He gazed at her hand a long moment, perched on his hip with a casual intimacy that not so long ago he could never have dreamed would ever be possible between them. Yet here they were.

Husband and wife. In truth it was more than he could have ever wished for.

He dozed himself for a time, waking a little while later to the pounding of horses’ hooves, and the jingle of harness.

“Who are you? What is the meaning of this?” He heard Brian say.

“We have orders from Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth Regina, herself!” Said a loud voice. “We are searching for a pair of fugitives from Her Majesty’s justice. Our orders are to search everywhere until they are found!”

He gently jostled Victoria awake in his arms. He placed his finger to her lips and she kissed it, nodding. Slowly she sat up reached for her head scarf and began putting it on. He separated himself from her as quietly she slipped into the darkest recess of the wagon. Brian had supplied her on their first night with a pair of long daggers and a short sword. One dagger she wore in her boot. The other was strapped to her midsection beneath her tunic, so she had some method of defense if it came to it. It was the short sword that Victoria held, gleaming in the filtered daylight, as he reached for his sword.

“Fugitives, you say?” Brian responded. “We are but a small band of foresters. We have seen no fugitives hereabouts. You do have descriptions?”

“Aye. A tall, distinguished looking man and a young woman of smaller stature. Both with dark hair.”

“Oh dear. I can see how your task is truly an enormous one! That could fit any number of folk, I would imagine.”

“Aye but not any number of folk could pass themselves off as gentry. Tis a Lord and Lady we seek.”

“True. That does narrow the field a bit. But what makes you think you would find them out here? This is hardly the environment, I should think, to find a fugitive Lord and Lady.”

“Our orders are to search everywhere.”

“Oh well. By all means. Search away.”

William unsheathed his sword slowly, silently.

“No, I wouldn’t search there if I was you.”

He held his breath. A man was coming to the wagon but Brian had stopped him.

“And why is that?” Said the man with suspicion.

“No reason. Its just that’s where my uncle is. He’s very unwell. In fact, he has the pox. I only warned you out of concern for your own health, but if you feel your duty is worth the risk to your life that inhaling those unholy vapors would pose, then by all means, go ahead.”

William barely had time to catch the hint and lie down.

“Pox you say?”

“Yes, poor fellow. He’s delirious with fever, which is why we camp so far outside of town. We wouldn’t want this thing to spread, after all. But do not let me stand between you and the fulfillment of your duty. Please…”

Victoria took up a position near him, placing her sword near her hand on the floor of the cart before dabbing his head with a moistened cloth. He let out a shockingly sick sounding moan and coughed in the most disgusting fashion he could devise, making her smile despite the circumstance.

“Well, I suppose, if we searches every where else…”

William kept up coughing until the man moved quite away. Victoria handed him their oilskin bag of water when it was safe.  He'd coughed his throat completely dry. 

“Well done, husband,” she whispered.

“Shh,” he cautioned. “Its not over yet.”

The men were upending the rest of the camp, shouting orders at each other and generally throwing their authority around, but of course, their search turned up nothing. William did not feel at ease to relinquish the role of sick uncle until Brian himself came to the cart and pulled back the canvas.

“They’re gone. Good work,” he said, laughing a little. “You almost had me convinced.”

“It was your idea. Thank you again.”

“Think nothing of it. That was too close for my comfort though. I’d wager my weight in gold that they will be back. Rest while you can. We will break camp at sunset. I want an early start tonight. And I think it might be best if she stayed in the wagon during tonight’s journey. I fear even her stature among our ranks might arouse enough suspicion for them to search us again. And next time, we may not be so lucky.”

* * *

When Brian had gone, Victoria reached up and took her husband’s beloved face between her hands and kissed him fully on the mouth. He moaned softly against her lips, as she pulled him down over her.

“Victoria…” he breathed in her ear. “Now is not the best time my love.”

“I know,” she said, kissing him again. “I know we should not. But oh my love, how I need to feel you. Hold me here. Please.”

He whimpered against her throat. “You will be the finish of me, Woman.”

“Do you derive no satisfaction at all merely by being close?” She said, pulling him down on top of her so close that he was propped up only on his elbows. She sighed and wrapped her arms and legs around him. “There. Oh, that’s so much better.” She leaned up and kissed him again, sighing against his soft lips, the warm shelter of his mouth and body her lifeline.

He pulled back and looked deeply into her eyes, and she could see his own glistening with unshed tears. She knew how he felt. She felt the same. The fabric of the very world seemed to tear at them, ripping them asunder, pulling her from his arms. But she would not have it. She snugged up to him even tighter, pressing her body against his, needing to feel him…all of him. If not inside of her than against her as tightly as she could hold him. She wound her hands in his hair as his lips found her collarbone and drifted down.

Presently after more delicious kisses, he ground his hips hard against hers, letting her feel just what this was doing to him.

She hissed in a breath and her hips rose to meet his as he did it again. Delicious heat spiked in her body. Oh how she wanted him!  Needed him as he did her...

“God help me,” he whispered in a ragged breath as he took her mouth beneath his. “I need one of two things rather badly right now…Ma’am. A dunk in a very cold stream, or you.”

She arched into his touch instinctively, rubbing herself against his mouth, his hips. 

“Bloody hell,” he whispered. “We cannot…we should not!”

Her body was on fire for him now. And she knew he felt the same way.

“Quickly,” she breathed. “Please, My Love.  Take me. Now.  Please!”

His hand was scrabbling at the waist of their trousers before she had even finished speaking. Within moments, he was moving inside of her, hard as steel, his every movement sending shock waves of pleasure through her.

She bit her lip to avoid calling out. “There!” She whispered, frantic. “Right there! Oh yes!”

It was quick. They were both so close before even starting that it took no time at all. He collapsed on top of her, shuddering.

"There.  Oh now, isn't that better?"  She said, stretching beneath him languidly, a smile on her lips.  "It certainly is for me."

“Temptress,” he breathed. “God, how I love you.”

“Not half as much as I love you,” She whispered, stroking his hair. “My darling. My beloved. Husband.”

* * *

Out of an abundance of caution, they did not return to the Dover Road for this night’s traveling. Instead they continued through the forest, along a lesser known track that Brian knew and made use of from time to time.  It had taken him a lot of coaxing, but William had finally succeeded in convincing Victoria to stay in the cart for the night's travels. Her palfrey, Agnes, trotted along behind his horse on a line, carrying a few extra packs and trying to look an ordinary pack horse. 

“True there is still a risk,” Brian had said to William, “and our choosing of it instead of the main road, along with the cover of night smacks of guilt. So if we are found they will not be so easily put off. But the open road has greater risk, I think. It is hard to say which is the better route. And I am familiar enough with this path that it will not add too much time to our journey.”

They traveled on for a bit before William finally won the war within himself.

“There is…something…I would ask of you.”

“Ask away,” said his companion, with a tilt of his head.

“The Countess,” he whispered.

“What of her?” Brian said in a carefully neutral voice.

William sighed. This was proving more difficult than he could have imagined.

“If anything should happen to me--in a fight or otherwise—she will be all alone in this place. I should deem it a great…favor…if such a fate would befall us that you would look out for her.”

It was a few moments before his companion spoke again.

“I daresay in such an event, she would have found herself made Countess of Warwick in very short order,” Brian returned, not without a trace of bitterness, William noted.

“Possibly so. He is well and truly in love with her. Or as much as a man can be, who’s true love is beyond his reach.”

Brian nodded. “So the rumors are true then, about the Queen and Dudley?”

“In terms of feeling, I have no doubt upon the matter. But practically speaking, they can never marry.”

“Which puts Warwick in a special kind of hell, I agree.”

“Yes.”

“So his interest in the Countess is as a substitute bride?”

“Not entirely. His feelings for her are genuine enough, I believe. And yet…I fear for her. If Dudley is all she has to lean upon.”

Brian nodded. “She does not care for him then, I take it.”

“Well. She likes him. Were it not for me she might have fallen under his spell. But I do not trust him. I do not believe he would do her harm. To the contrary, I believe he would provide for her every need. But that does not mean he would not eventually break her heart when he strays. For he is not a man to stay devotedly to the side of one woman—no matter what she makes him feel. And when that happens, I fear for her.”

“You wish me to check in with her from time to time should she marry him?”

“I do. He will be very possessive for a time, I have no doubt. But then when his interests wander—” he broke off.

“She may have need of a friend?” Brian whispered.

William nodded, unable to speak for a time through the stranglehold of emotion. “A friend on the outside.”

“And if Warwick has changed his mind and will not have her? What do you wish me to do then?”

“Be her friend and protector. Keep her safe and provided for, until she finds a man who will make her happy again.”

“What an interesting philosophy. A woman who chooses a man for herself, instead of waiting around to be chosen.”

William laughed. “Well. Once you have known her long enough, you will learn it is best to let Alexandrina choose for herself. Under no other circumstances will either survive the union.”

Brian was silent for a time.

“And if she should choose me?”

It was William’s turn to be silent.

“Are you seeking my blessing?” He said finally.

“Well. Permission perhaps. You must know that such a thing could very well develop.”

“Yes it could.”

“Does it pain you to consider it? I am of much lower rank and wealth and privilege than you are yourself, or Dudley for that matter.”

William laughed. “All of it is painful for me to consider. But I would be foolish not to. No matter the circumstance, she will outlive me, unless through an accident of some kind, which is even more painful to consider. Therefore I must make some kind of provision for her. It would settle my mind to know she would be looked after well. No, Sir. I do not forbid it. Your other virtues more than compensate for the lack of rank and wealth. My primary concern is that she will be looked after by someone who cares for her. Someone with the means and inclination to always have her best interest at heart, if I am not here to perform such a service. Preferably someone who loves her, and whom she can love in return. If that is you, then do not consider me an impediment.”

Brian nodded. “I thank you. I do not know when I have ever been paid a higher complement. Nor one quite as painfully rendered as this one must have been for you. It is clear you love her very deeply. And equally clear how deeply she loves you. To lose you would carve her more cruelly than I think you know.”

William blinked back tears, took a deep breath. “It pains me to own it. But I believe you are right. No matter how misplaced or recklessly bestowed her affections are on me, they are genuine and deep. I have no wish to leave her now or ever. Nothing but death can ever pull me from her side—hence this desperate flight. For I have loved her from the first moments of our acquaintance. Though I never expected my feelings to be returned. She has given me more than I can ever…have deserved.” He took a deep breath. “You must understand. The Countess is…a very special woman indeed. Precious beyond any and every other. She must be protected. Cared for. Cherished. Guarded. Loved beyond all others. She is worth a thousand of any other woman.”

Brian gave him a piercing look. “My God man. Who is she?”

William took a deep breath. He had said more than he should, he knew. But time was of the essence. And he may not have another opportunity to settle things.

“I cannot say more,” he said very quietly. “Only that your loyalty and your conscience need suffer no qualms in becoming her protector. She is not any kind of competition for the Queen, or of any threat to the crown whatsoever. Therefore you need not worry on that score. But precious…she is precious beyond all measure. Do I ask too much in this?”

“No,” Brian said softly, “On the contrary. I am deeply honored by your faith in me. I swear it solemnly to you. I will never abandon her. She shall have me to hand for whatever she should need of me. Nor will I divulge what you have told me. Therefore be at peace, my friend. She will be provided for.”

“Thank you,” William said softly. “That is a great comfort to me.”

* * *

Within three more days of careful traveling, they had reached the outskirts of Dover, and there parted company with their companions.

When it was time to say farewell, Brian came to Victoria. His deep blue eyes looking straight into hers as he reached for her hand. Astonished, Victoria allowed him the liberty without resistance. He brought it to his lips briefly, and placed a kiss on her knuckles, his eyes remaining fixed on hers. Then he dropped his gaze, turning her hand over in his thoughtfully, caressing it, studying it as if he were committing it to memory before he reached into his doublet, and drew out her bag of gold. Holding her eyes with his again, he softly and deliberately placed it back in her palm.

“My Lady, I find I cannot accept this after all,” he said softly.

“Oh but—!”

“Shh,” he said, placing a finger against her lips, shaking his head. “Instead I charge you—go forth and live. Live a long and happy life with your beloved husband. A love such as you share is no everyday occurrence. And beauty such as yours is still rarer. Knowing that you are free and happy together, that I helped you to be so, is reward enough for me.”

Victoria’s breath caught in her throat, and she flung herself against him, embracing him with gratitude.

“I shall never forget you,” she whispered, “nor your great kindness to us both.”

She felt his surprise, and then his arm came up around her shoulders hesitantly at first, then squeezing her tightly for a moment only, before releasing her.

He smiled into her eyes. “Fare thee well,” he said, his expression wistful as he held her eyes another moment. Then he offered a bow to William before taking his leave of them both.

“Well,” said William as they stood watching Brian depart, “It seems you have made yet another conquest, my love.”

“He is too kind,” she said, holding the bag of gold in her hand. “He returned it all to us. Not a single coin missing. How will he compensate his men now? He should not have been so generous. I was ready to pay him more for all he has done for us!”

“He is a good man. And there are some motivations stronger than money.”

She looked up at him quizzically. “Are you seriously suggesting that he has formed an attachment to me? But we have barely spoken! And look at me! I’m a bedraggled urchin. Dressed in boys clothes!”

“Yes. Its a good thing you know, that you make such a lovely boy, my dear,” he said with a sigh, “I do not think he would have been so generous if he had seen your true form.”

“What?” She turned to her husband, saw the mirth dancing in his green eyes, and punched him in the shoulder.

“Yes if he had known what a hideous crone you really are…”

“You are planning on sleeping on the floor tonight are you not? Because you will not be coming to my bed!”

“Indeed,” he said as they mounted up, “Dear oh dear. Is the honeymoon over already? There was a time when you could not bear the thought of me being on the dirty and disgusting floor. In fact I distinctly remember that you volunteered to sleep there with me if I did not come to your bed.”

“It is ungentlemanly of you to tease your wife so.”

“You all but threatened me to your bed,” he continued dramatically as they rode into town.  "Whatever was I to do?"

Victoria felt the heat in her cheeks. “I can see now that I should have left you to it!”

William chuckled next to her. “You know this will be our first proper night together, do you not? With a bed and everything? No wagon. No ruffians. No band of brothers just a flap of cloth away.  Just you and me.  In a room.  With a door.  And a whacking great fire in the hearth.”

“We have had many such nights before,” she returned archly, hiding her smile.

“But now we are free,” he whispered near her. “Or will be soon. We made it, My Dear. Welcome to Dover. Gateway to our new life together.”

She turned to him and smiled.

* * *

Brian of Medway sat before his blazing campfire, feeling more at a loss than he had for sometime. His mind returned to the conversation he’d had with William, but a few nights before. What a terrible thing, to have to ask another man to look after your woman, should something befall you! But from his own standpoint, he had rarely felt so honored. William Lamb did not strike him as a man who placed his trust in others easily. And to entrust him with the safety and well-being of the woman he loved more than his own life spoke volumes about Lamb’s opinion of him. For all intents and purposes, he might as well have said, ‘should I die, Old Boy, I should wish you to take my place.’ Over the Earl of Warwick, nonetheless!

It begged the question—what was so wrong with Warwick? For the life of him, he’d never heard of aught being that entirely wrong with him. Between his status and his wealth alone, he could make a far better husband for the Countess than himself. How could he, Brian of Medway, ever marry a Countess, when he was but a yeoman? The idea was ludicrous, even if it wasn’t illegal. Even more so when another Earl suggests it.

Whatever the reason though, he couldn’t help but be honored by the sentiment. Somehow, in Lamb’s estimation, it meant he was the better man. He should like to think himself so, after all. But what kind of a life would that be for her? He didn’t have much money. His little slice of land was no great estate. His home, when he was there, was humble enough. But perhaps such things didn’t matter as much as others. And if the Countess herself chose him…he knew he should never hesitate.

_Should anything happen to me, she will be all alone in this place…_

Once again, and not for the first time, he’d found himself puzzled by the conundrum of them both. Lamb had admitted that their story to the Queen was a false one—they were not truly cousins. And yet they obviously had known each other for a very long time.

Who exactly were they? And where did they call home, if not here? What the devil did that statement, and all the others after it mean? 

_She is worth a thousand of any other woman..._

But not a contender for the crown.  Was it just the feeling of a man for his woman that spoke those words, or something more?  Yes, it was puzzling.  But he had to admit, he didn't care about the mystery as much as the woman herself.  It was strange, but he did care for her.  Perhaps it was more that he had not been with any women since his Mary had died.  Maybe it was time that he tried.

“I didn’t know as you had a taste for boys.”

Brian looked up from his thoughts to see Geordie snickering at him, joining him next to the campfire. His eyes narrowed. Geordie had been with him only a short time, and was the sort of fellow one never quite turned his back upon. Still, he’d proved handy in a fight, and loyal enough when the money was flowing.

“What makes you say that?”

“I has eyes, don’t I? I saw you take your leave of the little lad. Very touching.”

“I fail to see how it is any business of yours whether I have a taste for boys or not,” Brian said flatly. “Perhaps the lad just needed a hug,” he said flippantly.

“I don’t like working for buggers,” Geordie returned, unamused, as usual, at his employer’s sense of humor. “Bad enough as I had to guard the pair of them. But if the disease has spread to you as well, I reckon as I’ll be off.”

“Well. For my own part, I don’t like hiring men who jump to conclusions quite as rashly as you seem to do,” he returned. Inwardly he sighed. He supposed it was too much to ask after all, for a man to keep his hands off his wife—his new wife—for a handful of days in the greatest of danger. Especially when his wife was so lovely. And so in love with him. They had thought themselves discreet. And he supposed they were being, all things considered. But all the same…more than just he had probably noticed some sounds of amour floating upon the breeze more than once. He shifted uncomfortably, resolutely not remembering a pair of very feminine arms around him recently, and a wholly soft and feminine body pressing against his in the abandon of sheer gratitude and love. Platonic love.

Yes. She was an artless, sweet thing, the Countess of Leicester. No small wonder then that her flight from Dudley would cause such uproar. If she had run from him, he’d never stop looking for her. And if she had run to him, well, he’d never stop running away with her himself either.

Nor be able to keep his hands off her.

Not for the first time, he envied his new friend, The Earl of Leicester. For he did count him friend. Even as he did wish for the Countess to be suddenly struck blind and mistake himself for her husband. Just once.

“It can be dangerous to jump to conclusions,” he finished, looking at Geordie pointedly. “It opens one up to rash actions, which usually end in making the most dreadful kinds of mistakes.”

“Oh yeah? Why did you return their money then, eh? I thought we were going to share the commission. That’s what you promised.”

“I did. And you will get your share. So long as you continue to earn it.”

“And if I wants it now?”

“Than you have ceased to earn it.”

Geordie slammed his hand down, fury in his eyes. Brian stared him down, nonplussed and unimpressed.

“The job is done! I says I has earned it! Every blessed coin of it!”

Brian sighed, as his men began to melt out of the thicket, surrounding Geordie. He arched an eyebrow at him.

“You are paid for _loyalty_. Or have you forgotten the terms of your hiring, hmm? The job is done when your commander says it is. Not before. If you cash in early, you lose your share. Every. Blessed. Coin. Of it.”

Geordie was looking around at the grim circle closing in on him. His eye twitched, and Brian could see him calculating his odds.

“Well I don’t like buggers. I didn’t know as I’d signed on for that when I signed on.”

“My personal life is my own business. None of yours! Unless you want me analyzing your taste for…animals, isn’t it? Or have the half dozen reports I’ve heard of you frolicking in every sheep pasture we come across been wrong?”

The men around Geordie began to chuckle.

“Maybe _I_ don’t like _that._ ”

“At least the men around me has nothing to fear from me. Whereas you…”

“Have I threatened any man here with buggery?” Brian kept his eyes on Geordie, but pitched his voice loud for the entire clearing. “Has any man here awakened from his slumber to find me poking at his backside?”

The chuckling grew louder.

“No Sir!” Said one.

“No! No matter how much Tom might wish it!”

The chuckling grew to a roar.

“I’d say you’re safe enough,” Brian said to Geordie. “Now. Are you cashing in and leaving, or can I count on your continued… _loyalty_?”

With a grumble, Geordie stormed off.

Brian let him go until he was out of earshot.

“John?”

“Sir,” came the voice of his most trusted second.

“For the next fortnight at least, I think it would be best for all concerned if Geordie was not allowed to wander off on his own.”

“Understood,” John said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian of Medway's section here marks the first departure in perspective from William and Victoria in the story. I thought about it for a long time but finally decided that for this section, we needed to hear from him directly. 
> 
> Hang on to your hats, dear readers! There are rough seas ahead. More will be coming soon.


	43. Chapter 43--Who Wants to Live Forever?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and William reach Dover.
> 
> *Warning: Strong turbulence ahead*  
> Dear Reader, please hold on tight for this one. It will not be easy to read, as it was not easy to write. You probably should be sitting down, distraction free, and perhaps even not in a public place, with some tissue handy. 
> 
> When you are feeling brave and strong enough, proceed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There's no time for us.  
> There's no place for us.  
> What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us?
> 
> Who wants to live forever?  
> Who wants to live forever?
> 
> There's no chance for us.  
> It's all decided for us.  
> This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us.
> 
> Who wants to live forever?  
> Who wants to live forever?
> 
> Who dares to love forever?  
> When love must die?
> 
> But touch my tears with your lips,  
> Touch my world with your fingertips,
> 
> And we can have forever,  
> And we can love forever.  
> Forever is our today.
> 
> Who wants to live forever?  
> Who wants to live forever?  
> Forever is our today.
> 
> Who waits forever anyway?”  
> (Queen, 1986).

Chapter 43—Who Wants to Live Forever?

 

William and Victoria made their way into Dover, once again a lord and his squire. William at once procured rooms in a local inn and efficiently secured Victoria into them with himself. He ordered a bath and some food to be sent up, and sent the innkeeper’s boy out to inquire about passage to France. Word came back there were two ferries leaving for France tomorrow morning with the tide. There was nothing before.

William again sent the boy out with instructions for one of them and an advance deposit to secure the booking, along with a small fee for himself for completing the errand. Then turned his attentions to more pleasant things.

_Victoria._

There was a wooden tub set before their fire, steaming with hot bathwater. And now that there was food in the room, and the boy off to his errand, and the door securely latched…

She smiled at him and pulled the black scarf from her hair.

“You know, as my squire, you should really take the second bath,” he said playfully.

“You know, as your Queen, I can have you sent to the Tower for such a remark.”

“Well you could, if we were in the right century.”

“Don’t remind me,” she said, working on the buttons of her tunic.

“God I have such conflict, you know. Should I help you or sit and enjoy the view?”

“What has got into you today?”

“Perhaps I am happy.”

“Happy? Truly?”

“Yes. I believe I am. Or will be, when we finally make it to France. I can almost taste the freedom. Can you not?” He lost the war with himself, and went to her, wrapping his arms around her and peeling her tunic off himself.  “All I want is you—naked,” he captured her ear with his lips, causing her to sigh. “When we get to France, I shall forbid you to wear clothes in my presence for at least a fortnight.”

She giggled. “Really? You have taken on a very imperious tone with your Queen, Lord M.”

“Have I? Mmm, maybe that’s because my queen has now become my wife. And as a husband, well, I can be imperious if I like. At least in the bedroom…”

She sighed at his ministrations, and bared her throat for him.

“I love being your wife,” she said, breathless.

“I’m glad. Because I shall never permit you to divorce me,” he whispered. “You are mine now, like it or not. Stuck with me, forever.”

She giggled against him. “Oh no, whatever shall I do?” She turned her blue eyes up at him playfully.

“I can think of a few things, Ma’am,” he whispered. His hands unwrapping her breasts. “You are so clever.” Finally her breasts were freed, as well as another small bag of gold coins which dropped to their feet, making him chuckle. “Well. That was well hidden. Oh how I’ve missed these,” he said with rapture, palming her breasts, kneading them as his lips landed on her shoulder.

“Forgiven,” she said leaning back against him with a sigh. “For all your impertinent remarks.”

He chuckled, and dropped his hands, pushed her trousers down off her body.

“Oh yes, this is much more like it.” He slid his hands over her silky skin, feasting his eyes on her beautiful body. “Shall I bathe you--Ma’am?”

“Ohh…please do--Lord M.”

He knelt by the tub, watched her settle herself slowly into the steaming water. “God, can it be true?  Are you truly mine?”

“Yes.  As you are mine,” she said with a smile. “There is some soap there,” she raised a glistening arm to point. “I pilfered it straight from my bathing chamber at Whitehall.”

He fetched it and bent to his task, rubbing her all over with the rose-scented cake of soap, even into her hair. When he was finished, she was clean and drowsy, and he was so aroused it hurt.

She rose up out of the tub, water caressing every delicious curve as it slid down her body. He stayed crouched low, feasting his eyes on her, swallowing hard. His cock was throbbing with need of her. But now she was clean and he was still filthy from the road. He took a drying cloth from the nearby table and began to rub the remaining water out of her skin gently and thoroughly. Every part of her skin.

She sighed, lips parted, head back.

“I want you to bathe me everyday. Henceforth. For the rest of our lives,” she whispered. “I love the feeling of your hands on me.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Ma’am,” he whispered as he wrapped another cloth around the long shaft of her hair and pressed it gently, without rubbing. "As they so enjoy being on you, too."

“You even know how to dry my hair,” she whispered.

 _Through a great deal of practice,_ he thought, but he did not share the thought with her. The reminder would only grieve her, as it did him. What he wouldn’t give for a lifetime of loving only her!

When she was dry enough she put her boy’s clothes back on, dirty though they still were, so that William could call for the tub to be emptied and refilled.

If the chambermaids noticed that the water was scented with roses they said nothing as they went about their task, emptying and refilling with fresh steaming water. It was something of a risk, this, he knew. It wasn’t usual for a page to receive a bath at all, much less one in his lord’s tub. He would probably be expected to wash in the horse trough outside. But for obvious reasons that could not happen. Therefore he exposed them to a little risk to allow them both a little comfort.

When the bath was filled again with fresh steaming water, and the door once again secure, he crooked a finger at his wife, who came to him with a smile.

“Come here to me, my lad, and bathe your master.”

She grinned at him. “Shall I remove your clothes first, My Lord?”

“Yes,” he said in a whisper. “You shall.”

She did as he required, slowly peeling off his clothes. When he was in the tub, he looked up at his wife with hungry eyes. “Bathe me naked,” he whispered.

She grinned and shimmied out of her clothes again, leaning over the tub with a cake of soap, beginning at his feet, her breasts swinging over the lip of the tub as she worked her way up his body.

“This part needs extra…attention,” he said when she’d made it about halfway.

“Yes, My Lord,” she whispered with a smile. “I can see that it does.” Without another word she stood, and climbed into the tub with him.

He purred as he watched her settle herself at the opposite end, wrap her little soap-covered hands around him and begin sliding them up and down. Hard. His head fell back against the tub with a moan.

“We must get you clean,” she whispered, one hand dropping to cup him gently, rubbing the soap in there too.

He was beyond speech now. Entirely in her hands.

Entirely. Lost.

“Now,” she said sometime later, stopping her ministrations, making him groan in protest. “What about the rest of you? Oh dear I can’t reach you from way over here. Whatever shall we do?”

“Minx. God, how I love you,” he whispered.  She was the most beautiful, erotic vision he had ever seen, sliding up his body, sex and mischief in her eyes, as she rinsed him with water and then…

“Oh dear God!” He moaned aloud as she settled herself on him, and began to soap his chest and arms.

“Yes, that is much better,” she crooned, “I can reach all of you now.”

He pulled her into his arms and crushed his lips against hers, amused that she was still diligently rubbing soap all over his back. “You are most thorough, my lad.”

“I take my job very seriously,” she said with mock sternness, now winding her soapy fingers through his hair.

He choked on a moan as she worked him…in every respect. Somehow she managed to get him clean as she pleasured him until he could not see straight.

“You are torturing me,” he whined as she left him.

“Stand up. We must dry you off, My Lord.”

“You will only have to repeat this process again in very short order, you do realize that,” he said, as she buffed him dry, rubbing with sensual thoroughness the soft bathing cloths against his wet body.

“Oh yes,” she said, dropping to her knees and licking her lips when she was through. “What a very great shame that will be.”

* * *

Evening was stretching its orange and crimson arms around the horizon when Brian heard scuffling at the edge of the clearing.

“What is it? What is wrong?”

John did not pause for breath as he dashed to the campfire, straight for Brian without preamble. “He has betrayed us! He has betrayed us all!”

“Geordie?” Brian grabbed John by the shoulders.

“I followed him to Dover. I saw him…talking to a lord! I heard Geordie address him as ‘Warwick’, and saw him put gold in Geordie’s hand.”

“Dear God!” Brian said, feeling his throat go dry. “He has betrayed more than us. Mount up! All of you! We ride for Dover! Immediately…and pray God we are not too late.”

* * *

“Of course this not exactly the sort of accommodation I had always envisioned giving you on our wedding night. For I suppose you could count it as such now that we are in a bed and indoors.” William planted a kiss on Victoria’s head as he stroked her hip idly. Through the window, he saw the day give way into evening.

“I don’t mind a bit. But I would like a sea cave of our own eventually.” She said as she snuggled nearer to him.

He huffed a laugh. “Well. At this rate, you might just get that wish, my darling. Though it may be in France.”

“I don’t care. A sea cave is a sea cave. So long as we are safe and together.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Had I just heeded your advice to begin with, we wouldn’t now be in this predicament. We’d be hungrier and grubbier, but safe together.”

“You couldn’t have known what was to transpire.”

“No. Well, perhaps. I should not have found it odd that Dudley loved you. But Elizabeth…that I would never have predicted.”

“I could have.”

“You flatter me, my darling.”

“No. I tell the absolute truth. No one is more acquainted with your charms than I am.”

“That’s definitely true,” he whispered.

“I do not blame her for loving you. I do not know how every woman you ever meet does not fall at your feet in the very deepest love possible.”

He chuckled. “Spoken like a woman in love herself.”

Victoria smiled. “Remember that first night together? I don’t know what I was more frightened of—being inside a brothel or being inside a room with you. But whether I was more frightened that you would come to bed with me or that you would not, it is hard to say.”

Lord M smiled against her hair. “You were frightened? I was terrified.”

“Terrified? You?”

“Yes! Bloody well terrified. Having just killed two men to prevent them from raping you, and being in the room with you in your transparent nightie, insisting I sleep in the bed with you, with all the sounds of carnal pleasure floating around us and me, drunk off my head with brandy and hard as iron with wanting you anyway--yes, I was bloody well terrified.”

Victoria laughed. “I hope you can forgive me. I didn’t know what your being so close to me would do to either of us. I really did just want you to put your arms around me and let me lay my head against your chest to sleep.”

“I know that’s what you wanted. It was a sweet desire, and a wholly innocent one. One that humbled and flattered me deeply. You were so hurt when I said no. Broke my heart. You couldn’t begin to understand that the reason I’d said no was not because I didn’t want to be close to you, but because I wanted to be far closer to you than you even understood.”

“I think I wanted that too. I just didn’t know it until you did crawl into bed with me.”

“We both wanted it. Though I knew what it was we wanted more than you did at the time does not alter the fact that you wanted me every bit as bad as I did you.”

“And yet you resisted.”

“Of course I did. I had no wish to corrupt you. To take something beautiful and precious that was not mine to take. No matter how badly I wanted it to be.”

“It was always yours to take. I wanted it to be you. I have wanted to be yours, Lord M, from the very beginning.”

“But you should not have, Ma’am. It should have been a prince to deflower you. Or a grand duke. On your wedding night.”

“But I did not want a prince or a grand duke. I wanted you.”

“Yes well. You’re stuck with me now, aren’t you. My foolish, headstrong, darling—wife.” He planted a kiss on her head.

“At last. We are meant for one another, you and I. Inevitable as the tide. I shall never let anyone else tell me otherwise. Including you.” She trailed her fingers idly through his chest hair.

All of the noble thoughts he had just been giving voice to suddenly disappeared in the face of such affection. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, “Woman what you do to me!” He pulled her face up to his and plundered her mouth with his own.

Sometime later, they were quiet again.

“I wonder if we are missed back home? Do you think they have been searching for us?” She asked, again snuggling against him.

“Or perhaps if we return, it will be as if we had never been gone? I have thought of such things. I have wondered how we will explain ourselves in either case.”

“That we are suddenly married?”

“They will not recognize it as such. They will think I had merely absconded with you and ruined you for my own pleasure.”

“But there at least I will be Queen. I will have some say again.”

“Not really. You forget. You are Queen of a constitutional monarchy, not an absolute one. Elizabeth has supreme power here. You do not. You have a very specific role to play and Parliament has its own part. They will dismiss your statements as the ramblings of a young woman who does not know her own mind, and continue to look upon me as the worst and most reprehensible of traitorous wretches it is possible to conceive.  Right before they strip you of your crown.”

“No. For I will not allow it to be so!”

“You will have no choice, Ma’am! The court of public opinion will condemn us both.”

“So be it then. I can live without their good opinion. I can live without even the crown. I cannot live without you.”

He sighed heavily. “Oh my love, how can I live with myself if I cost you your crown?”

“I do not wish to give it up,” she said, kissing his chest. “But if it came to a choice, I know which I should choose. I do not know how I could even sleep without you now,” she said drowsily. “For I have not slept on my own since we arrived here. You are so necessary to my well-being, my darling. I simply cannot imagine life without you in any respect. Nor do I ever want to.” She ran her hands idly over his body as she spoke, and William wanted the moment never to end.

His heart was full as he gazed at her. “I hope it shall not come to that, Ma’am,” he whispered, kissing her. “Sleep my darling. Tomorrow at this time, we shall be safe in France.”

* * *

“They are at the Harbor Arms Inn,” John reported.

Brian nodded, his eyes on the silhouette of the building in question, below. “And here come our friends.”

A line of horses were making their way up the street to the door, with torches, and the glint of steel among them, their horses’ hooves striking the cobbled pavement with the ring of authority, the man riding at their fore clearly a lord.

Robert Dudley then. The Earl of Warwick himself. Come to claim his runaway bride.

“Dear God. So many men!” John gasped.

“Are you a praying man, John?” Brian whispered.

“Aye.”

“Then pray. Not only for us. But for our friends. For my heart misgives for us all tonight.”

“Why must we become involved?’

“Because a promise is a promise, John. I promised our friend that I would watch over his bride, and be a friend to her in need if ever there was cause.”

“His br—!  Do you mean that...that's who we've been transporting!”

"Yes.  The Earl of Leicester and his newly wed lady, who was given to Robert Dudley by the Queen herself," Brian turned his eyes to his friend.  "I also promised secrecy upon the matter, but it would seem the need for that is passed, since Dudley himself has found them.  Quietly now. We must move.”

* * *

“Victoria. Victoria. You must wake.”

“Hmm?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

Lord M’s face was gaunt in the moonlight and he held up her disguise.

“Here, put this on. Hurry!”

There was a dreadful racket downstairs.

“What is happening William?”

“We have been discovered. We must go. Quickly!” He passed her her blades, the ones that Brian had given her and would not take back. He held his sword in his other hand.

She dressed hurriedly and without proper undergarments.

“This way!” He whispered, ushering her through a tiny doorway off in a corner of their room and bolted the door behind them. “It is an attic stairway. Up you go!”

She found herself in pitch black, with Lord M behind her, half pushing her upwards as her feet touched the first step.

“Quickly My Love!”

She stumbled and almost screamed as something went skittering past her feet.

“Was that a—”

“--If you cry out now, we’re dead, Victoria! You must be brave My Love. Keep climbing!”

She did, biting the inside of her mouth to stop her rising panic. Only his strong arms and warm, reassuring presence gave her courage to push past her old fear. At last there was another door. William fumbled around her for the latch, and she had to resist the urge to fall back against him. Even in this danger, his arms around her brought her such peace and security it was almost impossible to conceive that anything could harm her within his embrace.

William quietly closed this door as well and latched it behind them as she took in her surroundings. A small attic with a wooden floor, strewn about with loose straw. Above them, a thatch roof. In their haste, they had not grabbed any tapers, so the only light in the room came from a small window off to one side.

A short time later, she could hear men breaking into their room below, and the voice of the innkeeper protesting this invasion.

“It won’t take them long to find our escape route,” he breathed in her ear. "We must climb out of here.”

“How?”

“This way.”

He crossed to the window. It was a small, dingy little thing, but strongly secured. Still, a few strong pushes finally succeeded in opening the latch.

“Placed in here to keep heat from rising in the attic during summer, I expect,” he explained. “Remember the thatch is set against wooden poles. They should be strong enough to support you, but you must feel your way carefully. Now. Go quickly!”

She turned on him, realization dawning. “I’m not leaving without you!”

Banging could be heard below. They were breaking through the first doorway.

“Victoria be sensible! I cannot fit through that window, but you can! They will be upon us soon!”

“Then let them come,” she said, placing her hand in his.

“NO!” His heart was in his eyes. The love she saw shining there left her breathless. “This is no time for your stubbornness! You must go. Please! I need to know you are safe!”

“Where shall I go? What shall I do? I have no place here, William! There is nothing out that window for me so long as you remain on this side of it!”

“You must find Brian.” There were tears in his eyes and his hands trembled on her cheek. “He is a good man. He will look after you. And he will not be far away. Please, my love. If I am to face death now, please give me the comfort of knowing that I freed you with my sacrifice! And I do not wish for you to have to witness it.”

“William,” she said, tears rolling down her face. “You cannot suggest…!”

“Your Majesty,” he said solemnly, “For my Queen you always shall be. In this time or in any other, let me serve you in my death the way I have in life. I’ve had a long time to live. You have had but twenty years. Please do not argue with me in this. Please, as you love me, go through that window! My Queen. My heart. My wife.” He kissed her softly. “I love you, Victoria. I will love you in this world and the next. Through life and death, you cannot escape that. Someday we shall see each other again, and then we shall not be parted again.” He stroked her cheek softly and kissed her again.

She cried out against his lips.

“Nooo! I cannot do it! I cannot leave you!”

There were footsteps on the stairs. Sure enough, the banging started on the door they had just come through. They had only moments now.

“I will not abandon you now, my husband, my darling Lord M. I would rather die by your side than to face the world alone after you have gone. Do you not understand--my life ends now anyway, without you! Do not ask me to leave you again! I cannot live without you!” She took his face in her hands and crushed her mouth to his.

The door burst open as he broke the kiss, regret and sorrow swimming in his eyes. None other than a triumphant Dudley strolled forward. Her husband pressed her behind his back as he turned to face their enemy.

“Well well well. If it isn’t the illustrious William Lamb, Earl of Leicester!” He made a sardonic bow. “And my bride. What a touching scene I have happened upon. Oh dear—have I interrupted something?”

William was angling her towards the window. She pressed against him.

_No._

_Go,_ his frantic hand gestures said. _Get out of here, now!_

She planted her feet. _I will not leave you. Now. Or ever._

Dudley met her eyes as she peaked out at him from behind William’s back, and exhaled. “God’s wounds, Lady. Even now my heart melts to behold you. No matter how you hurt me, spurn me, make me the laughing stock of the entire court! I look at you, and…my heart yearns for you, even still. I think I could forgive you anything.”

“I told you that I cannot return your love,” she said, placing her hands on William’s waist. “I never meant to mislead you. You have brought this on yourself because you would not relinquish your claim on me.”

His eyes turned hard as flint as he turned back to William. “No,” he continued speaking to her, his eyes never leaving William. “I will not relinquish my claim on you. My claim is righteous. Just. The only legitimate claim any man has to you. You are mine by rights. Why on earth would I relinquish that which I have fought so hard to obtain?” Then he addressed William. “My Lord Leicester.” He laughed bitterly. “Strange, is it not? How quickly things can change? But a few months ago, my life was well ordered. My hard work, my devotion to Queen and country finally starting to bear fruit, at last. And then you arrived. And everything I’d worked a _lifetime_ to achieve suddenly vanished before my eyes, and was placed as a banquet before you!”

“It was not my design. I had no pretensions, no ambitions to the Earldom of Leicester, I assure you.”

“Ah. Of course you did not. Nor did you have any designs upon the Queen. You merely ingratiated yourself to her out of…what? Charity? Happenstance? Some truly selfless motive, I have no doubt! God’s blood, if I have to hear one more praise uttered of you from Bess’s lips I shall go stark raving mad!”

William shrugged, shaking his head. “I had no desire to ingratiate myself at all! Merely to…be of some small service somewhere. I never envisioned…”

“Oh. But of course you did not,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You never envisioned. There was no art to your advancement whatsoever. You just strolled in and it all fell in your lap! Because that’s always the way it happens, is it not? Or is that only for you…”

“My Lord Warwick…”

“Do not—MOCK me with that title! After you steal everything that was promised to me, you dare rub it in my face thus?" 

Malice shown in his sharp, dark eyes. Envy. Anger. As clear as the sun. And Victoria saw again the same expression in them she’d seen on the tennis court. Her first instinct had been right—he had hit William on purpose.

"Always, it is you,” he hissed at William. “Why should I always come second to you? You…nattering old maid! How is it that both of them prefer you to me? Zounds, you are old enough to be her grand-sire!” He said with a wide, sweeping gesture towards Victoria. “To say nothing of your hold over the Queen! You--who are you?  A no one, from nowhere! Of no nobility whatsoever! No family!  No lineage to speak of!  And yet, behold, your meteoric rise! From nothing and no one, to Earl of Leicester? In so many _months?_ What did you do to her?  Deflower her?  Even that is hard to believe...why would she wish to be deflowered by you?  When she could have any man in the world!  I have spent a lifetime loving her!  Serving her!  As a friend.  As a--" he broke off.  "Yet she turns from me, to favor you.  In the _blink_ of an eye, I am thrown over in her affections!  And you would have me believe it was by accident?  Through no machinations of your own?  Do not tell me you lack ambition! You _reek_ of it!

“And yet, it is not enough for you to take the income that was promised to me…what I earned after YEARS of service! Years of sacrifice! No. Oh no. You have to have _her_ with it.” He turned his eyes to Victoria, and she saw in them genuine pain. “I would have left you to the earldom without contest. Backed away, and left you to Bess as well, such is the love I bear her that I would have her happy, even if with you. All I asked in return…all I wanted from the moment of our first acquaintance, was _her_!” He indicated Victoria.

"Truly Sir, I do not want the Queen's affections!  I do not seek to, nor have I, deflowered her!  You are far more disturbed by the loss of what you perceive to be her affections than you are the loss of this woman.  Do you not see that?  Surely it is within your power to own that we can benefit each other!  Go back to Court, take your rightful place by the Queen's side.  I should not return, even if forgiveness was offered me and I were invited.  I do not belong there.  I do not desire it.  Leave this woman to me.  That is all.  The earldom I imagine is already forfeit to the Queen upon my flight in any case, and even if it is not, I will not ever lay claim to it. So doubtless she will now bestow it upon you, where she should have bestowed it all along.  I tell you again, I have not ever sought to displace you, Sir.  All I wanted was something small.  But enough that I could support the two of us, then I could offer for her.  But all of that went as wildly out of my control as your own plans for your life did.  We are not enemies.  We find ourselves both in the same impossible circumstances, feeling that everything we care for has been stripped away by someone else! Take all else--the earldom, the Queen, whatever you wish--and my blessing along with it.  Just...leave her to me.  She is all I care for.  The one thing--the one person--I cannot live without.  Nor she without me.  We do not seek power or wealth or position.  We seek only to love each other, and to be left in peace to do so.  Nothing else matters.  Leave us in peace and I swear you will never hear of us ever again."

Robert Dudley looked at William a long time without speaking, and for a moment it seemed he was considering his words. “I confess myself surprised.  I did not expect that." He looked at William, head to the side, as if studying something he'd never seen before.  "Perhaps I can see after all what Bess must have discovered in you.  You truly mean that, do you not?  You care nothing for any of it.  Except her."  Then he turned to her and Victoria gasped to see the longing in his eyes. He swallowed hard.  "However generous, I fear I cannot accept your terms.  For this lady now holds the greater claim to me than even Bess." He shook his head, "No.  My love is too great.  I too could live without the rest, but this woman--this woman has become necessary to my happiness.  So I am afraid, Sir, that we are still enemies."

"But she does not return your feelings," William said softly, but firmly.

"Perhaps not as strongly as she returns yours.  But I have not been without encouragement, have I...Alexandrina?"

"You were entirely wrong to suppose it," Victoria said vehemently.  "My heart is his, and has been so, long before we came to Elizabeth’s court.”

“Deny it all you like, but you do have feelings for me, Lady.  I have seen them in your eyes.  Felt them in your kisses.  I have but to take you in my arms to bring them to the fore again."

"You will never touch me again!"

“Sir Robert, surely as you love her, you must want what is best for her? What will make her happy? You said yourself that you wished the Queen to be so, even if it was with me. Can you not see that Alexandrina is happiest with me? Has it not always been so proven throughout your short acquaintance? Your feelings for me aside, can you not find it within you to release your claim on her? For her own sake, man!”

“SHE WAS PROMISED TO ME!!!” He thundered to William. “Promised by Her Majesty herself! She is mine by law! Mine by rights! You STOLE her away, and now you have the gall to ask me to release her?!  Never!  It shall never be so!”

“He did not steal me!” Victoria stepped out from behind William, drawing herself up to her full regal height. “He could not steal what was rightfully his to begin with! It is you who are the thief, Sir Robert, not him!”

“Victoria…” William whispered frantically.

“Victoria?” Dudley said slowly. "So.  Not 'Alexandrina' after all.  But 'Victoria'...I begin to see Bess was not the only one played for a fool.  What a beautiful little liar you are.  Whoever you are.  But it does not signify.  I don't care what your name is, or the truth of your origins.  I shall have you for my own still, make no mistake. And when you are so, I will strip away all of your lies, Lady. One by one.  Until you are laid bare before me, body and soul.  And I will have the truth from you.  All of it.  Every last bit.  And then, I shall be the keeper of all your truths.  Your husband, your lord and master.  And you shall forget every man's touch upon your body--inside of it--who ever came before me.  ”

"Never!" She cried.  "It shall never be so!"

"Never?"  Dudley's eyebrows shot up.  "Dear oh dear.  Victoria, has no one ever told you a woman does not speak so to her husband?  I can see I have much to teach you.  And oh, so much to look forward to."

“I cannot be your wife, Sir Robert,” she said with finality.

“Victoria, please…” William said, his hands on her waist and attempting to scoot her to the side.

“You dare touch her so intimately in my presence? I should kill you where you stand for that impudence alone!”

“You will NOT,” Victoria said, fury infusing every line of her body, “lay one FINGER on my HUSBAND!”

“Husband?” Dudley whispered the word, looking to William for confirmation. “Dear God.  You have married her? You have dared marry the woman betrothed to me by the Queen?”

“She is out of your reach, my lord,” William said, still attempting to put himself between her and Dudley. “Victoria is my wife. Or do you plan to tell me that the Queen’s law overrides that of God?”

“No,” Dudley drew in a sharp breath as he regarded them both, fury again in his face. “No. Surely not, you—” He looked from one to the other. “That’s treason,” he looked at William. “Both of you have committed high treason against the crown!”

“Let us go, Sir Robert,” Victoria begged. "I have told you from the start that I could not give you what you sought!”

“And _I_ have told _you_ from the start, we none of us have a choice in such matters! It is only the Queen’s will that matters! We are all her puppets, dancing along to her will. And if she decides to advance us, we advance. And if she decides to murder us in our sleep, we die. It is as simple as that. And she has decreed that you are mine. And therefore, you are. And I will take back what is mine, one way or another.” He drew his sword.

“No!” she begged. “Please…do not do this!”

“There’s just one technicality that stands between her and I now,” Dudley said to William, who had also drawn his weapon. “You.”

“Not entirely true.”

Victoria gasped to see Brian, standing in the doorway, his features partially concealed with a mask.

“Who are you?” Dudley asked. “What is your business here?”

“Neither is of any relevance. My men have yours surrounded. That is all you need know.”  More of his men appeared over his shoulder, bristling with swords. “I have but to say the word and they are decimated.”

“Really? You have surrounded the Queen’s men, when they are on official business of the crown? Such an act will put you on the wrong side of the law, Sirrah, if indeed you have ever been on the right side to begin with. Your interference here this night will cost you dear!”

“You seem very sure of your victory. I am not sure I share your optimism. It may in fact be you whom this night’s work will cost dear. Are you sure you are prepared for that?”

“I have had enough of this!” Robert spat, then whirled on William. "There will be no more words.  If you want her, then by God, fight for her!!”

Dudley lunged for William, who blocked his blade with a ringing clash, signaling the onset of battle. It effect was instantaneous. Dudley’s men advanced on Brian and his companions, with more rushing up the stairs to lend support to their captain, leaving Dudley to battle with Lord M alone.

Victoria stood on the edge of combat, her attention divided. Brian was outnumbered--some of his men had advanced down the stairs, staving off further invasion while two of his compatriots had fallen, leaving Brian himself to fight off two of Dudley’s men alone. Hardly thinking about her action, Victoria took one of the daggers he had given to her and launched it with all her strength at one of them. It wedged itself into the backbone of one man, who dropped like a stone, evening the odds considerably. Brian’s eyes met hers in surprise, and he nodded his thanks before resuming his fight.

Then Victoria turned to William, as something caught her eye through the window that was supposed to have been her escape hatch. A streak of light, blazing across the night sky.

_A shooting star._

William followed her gaze in a flash, and she knew that he had seen it too. She held his eyes and wished with all her might. He smiled his sad smile at her, his luminous green eyes so full of love and apology, and in that moment, it felt as if the world stopped its frantic spinning, holding them both together suspended in time, cradled and warm and safe in a place all their own.

Then just like that, the moment shattered, and Robert Dudley plunged his sword into William’s unprotected side.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!”

The word ripped itself from her heart, tearing itself free of her lips as she watched her darling husband fall to his knees, clutching his side. Dark red blood seeping between his fingers as Dudley stood over him, triumphant.

“WILLLIIAAAAMMMM!!”

What happened next, she did not expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. I did warn you, after all. 
> 
> Still. I would ask you also to keep in mind one thing--THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER. It is not over. Repeat, the story is not over. If you have read this far, please consider continuing to read. 
> 
> More will be coming very soon. <3 
> 
> I, in my turn, am now braced and ready for your comments. *taking deep breaths*


	44. Chapter 44--Broken Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The question of what happens to Victoria and Lord M is answered. 
> 
> *Warning--Turbulence continues. Heavy turbulence ahead.*  
> Dear Reader, have some tissues handy. And also, make sure you stay with the ride until it comes to a safe and secure stop at the end of the chapter. If you are going to read this one at all, I strongly advise that you do not stop until you get to the end. 
> 
> Therefore, as it was for the last chapter, you might want to set this one aside and read in a time and place where you are unhurried, can read from start to finish, and not in a public setting. 💖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “One more illusion shattered,  
> One more broken dream  
> Oh, that the morning brings the sun  
> Gone are the days when I could  
> Bounce right back again  
> See how the tears flow down  
> Like sweet summer rain  
> Where does it leave me now?  
> I find myself so free again
> 
> Even the smallest traces  
> Of your sweet perfume  
> Open the floodgates and I'm helpless  
> Now, as the moonlight shadows,  
> Cast across my room  
> Only the whispered words  
> Are heard in the night  
> Only a silent prayer,  
> I love you still, I always will
> 
> Out of the dark, I stumbled  
> Into the light  
> Only my fear has tumbled,  
> I think, I always knew  
> That I would run to you…”  
> (”Broken Dream”, Justin Hayward, 1996).

Chapter 44—Broken Dream

 

The Duchess of Kent walked slowly, her slippers crunching in the leaves beneath her feet, her heart in her throat as she advanced forward toward a small figure, sitting at the base of a statue in the midst of a grove of trees, staring at the wheeling birds in the sky. Her hair was wild about her shoulders, and she sat huddled deep inside a long coat of green wool, hanging loose about her shoulders and puddling around her, swallowing her petite form. A man’s coat. The coat of one man in particular.

She sighed, standing a few feet away, not knowing how to approach. Why was it that some aspects of motherhood had always perplexed her so? She loved her daughter, and yet, Drina could be so difficult at times, at other times she could be impossible. This was going to be one of those times. It was one of the reasons why the Duchess had left her so long on her own, and not set out immediately for Brocket Hall the moment the message had arrived at the palace announcing the Queen's return, and requesting a trunk of her things to be sent to her.  The fact that her daughter had expressly forbid anyone to intrude upon her solitude here did nothing to help.  Still.  She was her mother, like it or not.  And this thing had gone on long enough.  It was time for someone to put a stop to it.  Who else should the responsibility fall to, if not herself? 

She steeled herself for the task ahead, and continued her slow steps.

“I do not wish to see anyone,” Drina said woodenly and without turning around to greet her as the Duchess approached. “Please go, Mama.”

“It is time that the Queen return to the palace, Drina. You have been gone so long. The Parliament has asked your uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, to step down from the throne now you are returned. Your country needs you. You must return and meet Sir Robert Peel, to ask him to form a government.”

“I will do NO SUCH THING!” Her daughter screamed at the top of her lungs, turning to her.

The Duchess gasped.

Bloodshot eyes met hers from a face flushed and swollen with fury and grief—so unrecognizable that for a moment, the Duchess wondered if her daughter had finally gone mad, like her poor grandfather, after all.

“You cannot live at Brocket Hall, Drina! What will people say? They are already whispering!”

“I don’t CARE! I don’t care about anything. Don’t you understand? This is my home. My only home. I will not leave here. I cannot…leave…him.”

“Drina…You have been back now for a fortnight. Lord Melbourne has not returned. You cannot bring him back by staying here. He would not wish to see you this way. He would wish you to go on—without him.”

But her daughter would not be moved. Drina shook her head violently, and snuggled deeper into Melbourne’s coat, as large as a blanket on her.

It broke the Duchess' heart to see her daughter so. How deeply she had loved her first Prime Minister! How cruel life was, to give her such a man, and make it impossible for them to marry, then to take him away!  But then, at least according to Drina, they had married, after all. Now she really was Mrs. Melbourne.

Or at least, his widow.

It was the worst disaster imaginable. For the Queen and the Prime Minister to run away together in the middle of the night, all those months ago...but at least he had married her.  She supposed it could have been worse.  But now the Queen had returned, alone and bereft.  No one knew what had become of Lord Melbourne.  He must be dead, poor man, for the Duchess believed nothing short of death would have pried him from her daughter's side. 

Still.  All was not lost. In time now, she would marry Albert anyway--for she was sure that dear Albert was kind enough to marry her, even if she was no longer a virgin. Even if she had been married before. And once he did, all would be as it should have been, all along.  And all of the scandal, the unpleasantness, the infamy of this first, unfortunate marriage would be over and forgotten.

All that was left was to convince Drina that she should accept her first husband’s death, and to invite dear Albert to court as soon as it was appropriate, where she could propose to him and go back to having a happy life.  The life she was born to lead.

But that might not be so simple.

She noticed with a sad squeeze of her heart how Drina brought the arms of Melbourne’s coat around her and fondled the sleeves, as if imagining their owner still inside of them, wrapping her in his embrace. Tears pricked her eyes.

“My poor little girl,” she said, remembering her own grief at the loss of the Duke of Kent, Drina’s father. “It is so hard to lose a man you love. But my daughter, we must go on. Hard as it may be.  You must come away now.  To Buckingham Palace.”

“I will stay here as long as I please,” Drina said with a voice raw and husky from weeping, yet still somehow managing to be dripping with ice. “It is the only place I feel at home. Here with the rooks— _his_ rooks--there is peace. I cannot bear any other place.”

The fire seemed to have gone out of her daughter now, so the Duchess, risking greatly, came to sit beside her on the statue’s base. Trying to reach out, she said, “He was a good man, your Lord Melbourne. I think now I misjudged him in the beginning.”

“Do NOT speak of him in past tense, Mama!” Drina said with sudden violence. “He IS a good man. And yes, you misjudged him! Badly!”

“But Drina, he is—”

“Did you come here to rub my face in it? Did you, Mama? Or perhaps you came to tell me to marry Albert? If you so much as DARE mention that to me now, here in this place, I swear I will cut you off and never speak to you again! Do you understand me? I have a husband! I have a husband who loves me beyond all measure! And I love him the same way! And if he does not return, I shall _never_ marry again! And I don’t CARE what you, or Uncle Leopold, or the whole country has to say about that!”

“Drina, he is gone! You must face facts!” All attempt at tact was gone. “You must go on! Lord Melbourne would want you to be brave! He would not wish you to curl up and mourn him to death!”

“I don’t—want—to—be—brave…” she said, gasping for air between each word, forcing the words out from between chattering teeth. “I—can’t be—brave—without—him! I—can’t—go—on—without—him! I can’t Mama! Oh, Mama, I can’t—bear—it! I have—been—cut—in—half! I shall—never recover—never—be—whole—again!  Never--be alive--again!”

The Duchess took her daughter into her arms, rocking and shushing her like she did when she was little, while Victoria deep heaved and sobbed against the lace of her bodice, soaking it with her tears, unheeded.

“I—love him—so—much! I--can’t--bear it! I feel as if I’ve been—cut away from myself! My heart is gone! There is--nothing--left for me--to live--for. Nothing!”

“Oh, my poor, poor girl! I know it feels that way. But you will go on. In time, the pain will lessen…”

“I don’t want it to lessen! I don’t want to go on without him! How can the world keep turning without him in it? How _dare_ it keep turning!”

“I know…” the Duchess cooed, her own tears rolling down her cheeks unchecked, “It is so unfair.”

“I can’t stand being back here without him! Everything is so empty!  Hollow!  Meaningless!  I miss him so much! I need him so much! It—hurts—to—just—breathe! I want—to die! I want—to die here, beneath the—r-rooks--he--loved—I want—to see—him again—feel him—hold me—oh Mama! I can’t—do it. I can’t—go on—this—way!”

The Duchess’s own heart shattered with her daughter’s words.  How she longed to be able to heal her suffering!  But the only one who could truly heal her was never coming back. She held her daughter tightly, crying with her, sharing the little piece of her heart that her daughter offered her.  Hoping to comfort her even a little.

“How—shall—I—live—without him?! How shall—I bear it? I am—so alone. I ache—for him—in every bone! His touch—his voice—his smile—everything is gone! All meaning—all beauty—there is nothing in the world without him! He cannot be gone! He cannot!! How can he be? He _is_ —my—world! My—whole— _WORLD_!”

Drina trembled and shook in the Duchess’s arms, and for the first time, the Duchess began truly to fear for her daughter. This was more than normal grief. Such pain.  So deep and so vast...it was beyond her experience.  She had loved and lost herself, but nothing like this. 

She stroked her daughter's hair and whispered a fevered prayer to the heavens for mercy, for peace, for help for the young woman in her arms.

Drina cried. And wailed. And cried some more. In a broken voice, her heart spilling out all over them both. She talked of her husband. Her Lord Melbourne.  And the Duchess listened, and tried to see a new side of him.  Tried not to be angry or outraged at his presumption--his ambition--to reach out his hand for something that was never supposed to be his.  Still, no matter his faults, she could not blame him for loving Drina. How could he not? She was everything a man could want, of course. Of course he loved her. It only proved that what Drina said was true—he was a man of great taste and virtue.

Then, disturbingly, Drina began to babble. About Elizabeth, the long ago Queen. About Robert Dudley. About the past. And the Duchess bit her lip and worried through it all about her daughter’s delicate constitution, her fragile wits.

Had grief broken her reason? Had she truly gone mad? To imagine that Robert Dudley, an Englishman from so long ago, had stabbed her Lord Melbourne was to rave like a madwoman. What would the world say to hear her? What would that awful man, the Duke of Cumberland, say? And without Melbourne to rescue her again, she feared for her daughter even more. Gingerly, subtly she felt her daughter’s brow. No fever then. If anything, her daughter felt cold. So cold. Even in Melbourne’s coat. It was time to get her indoors.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the Duchess coaxed her daughter away from the rooks until, sobbing and broken, clutching Melbourne’s long jacket around her, trailing it along the ground, Drina permitted her mother to walk her to the house.

There, the Duchess settled her daughter before a fire in the library, and watched over her as the servants made her comfortable. Drina refused to sit anywhere but in his favorite chair, in his library, surrounded by his papers and his things, which she insisted remained untouched since her return.  Soon Melbourne's servants had brought her some soup and some of his favorite brandy, and after the Duchess had made sure that she drank and ate a little, Drina drifted at last into a merciful sleep, still wrapped in Melbourne’s coat, with his dressing gown spread over her legs like a blanket, curled up in his favorite chair.

While the Queen slept, the Duchess paced, wrung her hands, gazed anxiously on her daughter, and tried to understand what had really happened between her daughter and the Prime Minister.  So much of what Drina said was--not possible.  Fancy perhaps, or the broken remnants of a dream.  But what had truly happened?  That was the question.  And she wanted an answer herself, before facing Leopold, or Sir John, or any of the others.  But the more she pondered, the more confused she became.

It was a mystery to be sure.  Where had they really been all this time? They had searched everywhere…but nowhere could they be found. Not anywhere in England.  Not in Scotland, Wales or even Ireland.

Nor could anyone for the life of them figure out how he had done it.  Lord Melbourne's servants had all sworn on a Bible oath that their master had been at Dover house that night, that he had been in the library, had ordered brandy and dinner, had been seen working on his papers.  That no message had arrived from the palace and no one had left the house.  It was as if he had just vanished into thin air.

It was the same story for Victoria.  She was there one moment, gone the next.  Lehzen and Skerrett, had both sworn they had put their mistress to bed as usual.  No messages arrived.  No person had appeared anywhere in the vicinity of her rooms. The guards outside the palace all reported no late night arrivals of any kind, messages or personages.  And yet in the morning, they were both gone. It was presumed, naturally, to have been planned by the both of them, for such a thing was too strong a coincidence to have happened independently of each other. So how had they managed such a miraculous escape together? 

And then, just as suddenly as they had disappeared, Drina had reappeared at Brocket Hall months later, with no coach, with no horse even, nothing.  Just...appeared as if out of nowhere again, dressed in boys' clothing and in a desperate state of panic, looking everywhere for Lord Melbourne. The servants of course had sent to Buckingham with the news of the Queen’s return. But of Lord Melbourne, there was no news.  As time went on, only one conclusion had been drawn…wherever he was, he was not coming back. He could only be dead. 

So many questions.  And no answers that made any sense!  What would they tell the Privy Council?  The papers?  The people?

Whatever happened now, this thing must be handled delicately.  If Drina were to ramble to the wrong person about her delusions of being in the past, all would be lost for her daughter.  And for the country, who still placed such hopes in her reign.

Eventually, frustrated and fatigued, and with no more answers than she had to begin with, the Duchess made herself comfortable on Lord Melbourne's settee and drifted off to sleep. 

It took a lot of coaxing, but the following morning, the Duchess, with the Queen in tow, began their journey back to Buckingham Palace. It was a long road to be sure before Drina recovered, but like with all journeys, they had at least taken that first step.

* * *

“There can be no doubt about it,” the Duchess said with tenderness in her eyes as she smoothed Victoria’s hair back from her face.

“What, Mama?” Victoria croaked, wiping her mouth and pushing the bowl away from her face with distaste as Skerrett removed it without another word.

“Every morning for a week you have been sick. How long has it been going on this way?”

“I don’t remember. Since I have been back maybe. I have not counted.”

“How long has it been since you have had your courses?”

“What? I don’t know,” she frowned. “What are you getting at, Mama?”

“Has it been longer than one month?”

“I…don’t know…” she frowned, trying to remember. It was so hard to think at all. Where had she been when she had them last? Elizabeth’s court. “Not since Whitehall sometime I suppose. Why?”

Her mother frowned. She always frowned whenever Victoria mentioned where they had been.

“I really was there! Did you not see the drawings I made?”

“Yes I did. They were very…imaginative.”

Victoria huffed her indignation and moved away from her mother. “We _were_ there! I am not crazy, Mama!”

“Perhaps not. But I do think I know what you are, Drina.”

“What am I, Mama!” She whirled angrily.

“With child,” the Duchess said quietly. “I think you should send for Sir James. To make sure.”

“With child?” Victoria sat abruptly, all anger draining from her face. “But he said…it was not possible!” She touched her belly gingerly. “Oh Mama...can it really be?"  _His_ baby! Could she really be carrying _his_ child?!

The Duchess smiled gently. “You have the morning sickness. And no courses for at least a month. I think it is a strong possibility. You should lie down, Drina, and get some rest. I will send for Sir James.”

“Yes,” she said, “I believe I will.” Her mother left her and she climbed back into her bed, reaching for her favorite pillow—the one she had made of one of William's waistcoats. It was a beautiful burgundy velvet on one side, silk on the other. She stroked it fondly, remembering the day she’d surprised him at Dover House. This had been the one he had worn then, she was sure. She fingered the bright brass buttons she’d made sure to leave on the front, and the small pocket, and squeezed her eyes tight, tears leaking through them as she sobbed into the pillow. “We have a child, My Love,” she whispered. “Oh My Darling, how I wish you were here!”

Dash hopped on the bed with a whine, his cool wet nose inquiringly pressing against her hand. She raised her hand and patted him, his big brown eyes gazing at her adoringly. Her sweet little Dash. At least she had him again.

“Oh Dash!” She cried. “I miss him so much! And now this. We have a child. I must live now. But I do not know how!”

Dash nuzzled his way into her lap, reassuring her as best he could with his warm, furry presence.  Victoria held him with one hand, and her pillow with the other, and sobbed into the soft fur of his head.

* * *

She did indeed have a child on the way. Sir James verified it a few hours later. She saw the exchange of glances between Sir James and her mother, between her mother and Conroy later, and the frowns of her Uncle Leopold. This child, at least, complicated their plans for her to rush into wedlock with Cousin Albert.

 _Good,_ she thought privately. _Now perhaps they’ll finally leave me alone._

“He would be so overjoyed Ma’am,” Emma told her later when she was alone with just her ladies, smiling through her tears. “Indeed, I cannot conceive of anything that would have ever made him happier than having a child…with you.”

“And not for reasons of the crown,” Harriet put in with a sad smile.

“No indeed,” Emma said, squeezing her hand. “He loved you so deeply, Ma'am,” she whispered. “I have never seen him so in love. Not even with his first wife. And what a blessing you were to him, I am sure. For this time, his love was returned.”

“A hundredfold,” Victoria said, squeezing her friend’s hand back.

“Then you know…you must take care of yourself. For the sake of his child.”

“I know,” Victoria said, swallowing her tears. “I know that now. I must live. But how?”

“One day at a time, Ma’am,” Harriet said kindly. “We will help you all we can.”

“You know. Its funny. I never wanted children,” Victoria touched her belly again. “I even told him that I think. He said—he said that he couldn’t have them and, I said I was okay with that. He was enough. And he was. But now he is not here. And the baby is. And this baby is all I have of him left in the world. And nothing could be more important to me than that. Though I am still scared. And he will not be here to smile at me and make me feel it will all be well. He will never see our child--never--see--him--grow...”

“He will be smiling down from heaven, I am sure,” Emma said, eyes brimming with tears. “Oh Ma’am, he would be so happy. I am sure wherever he is now, he is missing you too, and sad he cannot be by your side. But so happy about the child.  Through the child now, William will live on.”

“The child will be a comfort to you Ma’am, in his absence,” Harriet said, also crying. “It is a mercy of heaven.”

“Yes,” Victoria said, her own eyes swimming. “Yes I suppose it is.”

* * *

Autumn drifted by her in a swirl of leaves and colors. The sickness faded, and her body changed. Her breasts were fuller. Her hair more glossy. Her waistline rounder. Skerrett remarked to her every day that she was glowing. Others said the same.  Though Victoria gazed into the emptiness of her own eyes in her looking glass and knew they were only trying to make her feel better.

Her dresses and corsets had to be adjusted to fit, and some gowns no longer fit at all. Her new gowns were made with room to grow.

And every one of them she insisted be made in black.

The court was not officially in mourning, but she was. For every day of her life henceforth that she must live without him would be spent in mourning. She wanted it to show. She wanted to wear her heart on her sleeve—let all who beheld her know how her heart ached, how empty her life was without the one man who completed it.

The country, in turn, was accepting that their rogue Queen had been married and widowed, and was now anticipating the birth of Lord Melbourne’s child. Parliament had passed a special resolution to count the child as legitimate, and in line for the throne--although, the resolution stipulated, that if Victoria were to remarry, this time a prince of her own royal standing, that any issue from that marriage would take precedence in the line of succession over Melbourne’s child. As Victoria promised herself never to marry again, she accepted this happily.

And so things went. Autumn became winter. And at last the landscape outside of her window was as bleak and barren as her heart.

Christmas was drawing ever closer.

“You should hold a Christmas ball, Ma’am,” Harriet said one day. “Lord Melbourne would wish it.”

“It is astonishing to me how much Lord M would wish,” Victoria said crossly. “Every time someone else wishes me to do something they fear I will not do, they always finish by telling me he would wish it.”

“But he really would wish this, Ma’am. You know he would.” Emma said, sympathy in her eyes. “And he would not wish you to always go about in black.”

“Especially when the child is born, Ma’am. Surely that will be cause for celebration!” Said Harriet brightly.

“I know. But I cannot reconcile it,” she said honestly. “To celebrate the birth of his child without him--how can it be a celebration at all?  Perhaps I will wear a very dark purple, mixed with black. That is the best I can offer. At least I am able to wear purple again,” Victoria sighed. “I did miss it.”

She felt their worried looks behind her back. Indeed she had almost stopped mentioning her trip to the past at all. Everyone around her always thought her rambling whenever she did. She sighed.

“And…to the ball. You must wear something festive there too.”

“I do not wish to hold a ball this year.”

“But Ma’am, you have a responsibility to your subjects,” Harriet said.

“And we will help you with whatever is needed,” Emma said.

“Yes of course! Say the word, Ma’am. Then leave the details to us!”

Victoria sighed. “I do not feel in the slightest like being at a ball, or even thinking about one. But I know that you both wish it. And you are probably right that he would too. So therefore I give you my permission. Do as you like. But please try to involve me as little as you can. Harriet, I know you will plan a gown for me that is not black. But please endeavor to make it as dark as possible. I cannot bear anything over bright. It hurts my heart too much.”

“Understood, Ma’am,” Harriet said. “Oh Ma’am, thank you!  We will plan everything.  You will not have to worry about a thing.  I only wish…”

“I know. I wish it too.” Victoria stood at the window and gazed at the drive, willing to see his carriage, his horse, his glorious person alighting from something. Her eyes swam. But he was gone. He truly was gone. And her heart hurt so that it pained her to look at so many familiar sights without him. “Tell Lehzen to cancel all my appointments. I do not wish to see anyone else for the remainder of today.”

* * *

Time passed slowly again, the days and weeks feeling like months and years. By Christmas, she was four months into her term, and her belly was noticeably rounder. The baby was due to arrive in May. Around her own birthday.

The day of the ball arrived. Harriet had commissioned a gown of deep green silk and velvet brocade, with a clever cut designed to conceal the signs of her pregnancy. It was the same color as his eyes. Her own eyes pricked with tears when she beheld it.

“It is perfect,” she whispered. “Oh Harriet…” She broke with decorum and embraced the Duchess of Sutherland.

“I’m glad you approve it, Ma’am.”

Victoria still chose to wear touches of black as accessories, but this at least was compromise between what pleased her subjects and what she could bear.

Nevertheless, at the ball itself, she sat on her throne, presiding without dancing or taking part. She gazed gloomily at the swirling figures from her position on her dais, fighting a growing sense of anger, and the bone-deep impulse to run back to her rooms.  And as she watched the ball from her throne, Victoria felt more out of place, out of step with life than she had ever felt before.  As if she were behind a glass panel, watching it all transpire and feeling left out entirely.  But she had no wish to take part again.  Dancing, balls, life, joy--were now things reserved for other people.  Not for herself.  Not any longer.

Her hands fell again to her abdomen, to the small life that was growing inside of her. For their child’s sake alone, she was still here. It was all that tied her to this place. More than duty or the crown, or any other consideration. This place that was so robbed of all color and life without the one person who made everything worthwhile and beautiful.

She gazed without seeing around the ballroom, at the brightly-clad clusters of laughing guests, and thought of her big, empty bedchamber with longing. So many people here choked her, unaccustomed as she had become to court life. She wanted to curl up with Dash, and with the pillow she’d made of Lord M’s beautiful burgundy waistcoat, and sleep her life away. At the earliest opportunity, she would make her escape. But at least, her duty now was fulfilled.  Especially as regarded her ladies.

“Such a beautiful ball, Ma’am,” Harriet appeared at her shoulder, with a bright smile. “It was so good of you to allow it.  Especially as I know you did not wish it.”

“It is for you and Emma,” she said with a half smile. “How cruel it would be of me to deprive you of all pleasures. After all, you have to put up with me day after day.  It was the least I could do for you both for Christmas.”

“It is no burden to us to keep company with you,” Harriet assured her. “Indeed Ma’am, we are only too happy to be here for you.  We so missed you when you were absent.  And worried for you.  It is so good to have you back again, Ma'am.”

“You are too kind. I have missed you both too.  More than you know.  And I thank you both. I hope you both enjoy tonight especially.”

“Tonight lacks only one thing to make it perfect Ma'am.”

"Yes," she said simply, gazing at her hands, blinking back her tears and concentrating on just breathing.

“Will you not dance, Ma'am, at least once?” Harriet whispered.

“I will not. My dancing partner is not present.”

“But—Ma’am…he would not wish—”

“I know he would not!” She said with more passion than she intended. “I am sorry. I know you are right this time. Perhaps every time.  But as he is not here to express his wishes himself, I am disinclined to consider them over my own feelings just at the moment.”

“What about Lord Alfred, Ma’am? He is your friend, and cares deeply for you. Perhaps he would be a more comfortable choice? You could dance with him, free of any other expectation or supposition.”

She sighed. Lord Alfred, she admitted, was an ideal choice. For he asked nothing from her and was as gentle and safe and gallant as a man could possibly be.

“If I had to dance,” she admitted, “I would do so with Lord Alfred. But I would prefer not to.”

“I think it would do your people good to see you dance again, Ma’am. Just the once, at least.  And it is Christmas after all.”

“All the more reason I do not feel like dancing. Truly, Harriet, my limbs feel as though they were made of lead, and I feel so awkward and large and clumsy now, with the child. I am afraid I should only distress Lord Alfred overmuch, which I do not wish to do. Nor would I wish to tread on his toes.”

“I assure you, Ma’am, my toes would be quite safe.”

Victoria turned to see Lord Alfred smiling his soft, kind smile at her.

“And I would deem it a special favor to myself if you would honor me with a Christmas dance.”

“But it is a waltz,” she said, swallowing hard.

“Just so, Ma’am,” he said with a knowing gentleness in his kind blue eyes. “I believe it would be a fitting tribute. And one he would much appreciate,” he whispered to her. “It would pain him to see you thus. You know it would.”

It was one thing when her ladies said such to her. But it was something else again for Lord Alfred to mention it.  For him to make such an observation must have cost him dear, and therefore, he must have felt very strongly that it needed saying.

Victoria felt herself on the edge of an unseemly show of grief, both for William and for the kindness of their friends. She found herself nodding mutely and raised a wooden hand to place in Lord Alfred’s large, capable grasp as he helped her from her throne and onto the dance floor.

He swung her around the room gracefully, and Victoria tried to focus only on the moment, gathering strength from Lord Alfred’s kindly eyes and his firm, graceful lead. For a moment, she closed her eyes and lost herself to the sway and spin of the dance, trusting herself to Lord Alfred as she tried to block out everything else…every memory…both here, and in a far distant court. Everything except a pair of large green eyes, the same shade as her gown, luminous and glowing in candlelight, smiling kindly down on her that would not be forgotten.

She gasped, choked suddenly with grief. She opened her eyes and gazed determinedly into Lord Alfred’s cornflower blue eyes. He seemed to understand her need, his eyes supporting her as well as his arms through the dance.

But then, he glanced over her shoulder, registering surprise, even alarm, and brought her to an abrupt halt. She kept her eyes on him, puzzled at the expression of confusion and almost…fear…she saw in his.

Indeed the whole ballroom had come to a halt. A completely silent halt—music dying, conversation ending--as if the crowd was collectively holding it’s breath.

“Your Majesty,” came a soft, velvety voice behind her. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”

She stared wide-eyed at Lord Alfred, riveted to the spot, gripping his arm and his hand tightly, unable to turn around. Afraid to turn. Lord Alfred seemed to stare right back at her, his wide, crystal blue eyes a mirrored expression of her own shock, his body rigid beneath her hands. Indeed they seemed to hold each other up.

There was something about that voice that was subtly different than she remembered. And yet, it was so familiar. She began to shake. If she should turn, and be disappointed…

Lord Alfred swallowed hard, eyes telling her to take courage, and gently released her, backing away slowly with a bow.

Part of her wished him back. Wished she could follow him to safety.

“Your Majesty?” The voice was softer now, and nearer, urging her to turn.

She closed her eyes briefly, terror consuming her. How could she bear to be wrong? How could she survive if she was? Was this a dream? Would she open her eyes to find herself still dancing with Lord Alfred, a look of deep sympathy in his eyes? Or in her own bedchamber, her arms wrapped around a pillow dressed in a burgundy velvet waistcoat and streaked with her own tears?

She turned. And gasped.

The man standing before her broke into a face-splitting grin as he looked down on her, his eyes alight with amusement…and…tender…with love.

She could do nothing but stare—at his dark, dark hair, which now curled ferociously and swept down the back of his neck to brush his shoulders, with no trace of gray. At the boyish, insouciant grin playing across lips redder than she remembered. At the cocky swagger of his broad, straight shoulders.  At the half-lidded, lazy sensuality of his golden green gaze, framed with dark brows and fringed with sinfully long, thick, dark lashes.

At his smooth, unlined face.

There could be no mistaking who it was.

William Lamb, 2nd Viscount Lord Melbourne--her friend, her lover, her husband--was back.  And he was—

Young.

“Merry Christmas, Ma’am,” he whispered, and gently took her into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There now. I told you to keep reading to the end, did I not?  
> See? All better. (At least I hope so!)
> 
> The song this chapter is titled after is astonishingly beautiful. One of the most hauntingly beautiful, sad, and wistfully romantic songs I've ever heard. It's a song by Justin Hayward, lead singer of the Moody Blues. Worth a listen here: https://youtu.be/CdKZ3cYcrlc
> 
> "Out of the dark I stumbled/Into the light..." I know you have questions. Stay tuned. There's more to come. And as always, I look forward to your comments! :)


	45. Chapter 45--Wheel in the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of what happened to Lord Melbourne. 
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note--  
> This chapter begins again with the attic fight, and gives Lord Melbourne's account of what all happened leading up to his appearance at the Christmas Ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Winter is here again, oh Lord  
> Haven't been home in a year or more  
> I hope she holds on a little longer
> 
> Sent a letter on a long summer day  
> Made of silver, not of clay  
> Ooh, I've been runnin' down this dusty road
> 
> Ooh, the wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'  
> I don't know where I'll be tomorrow  
> Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'
> 
> I've been trying to make it home  
> Got to make it before too long  
> Ooh, I can't take this very much longer, no
> 
> I'm stranded in the sleet and rain  
> Don't think I'm ever gonna make it home again  
> The mornin' sun is risin', it's kissing the day
> 
> Oh, the wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'  
> Ooh, I don't know where I'll be tomorrow  
> Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'
> 
> My, my, my, my, my  
> For tomorrow
> 
> Oh, the wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'  
> Ooh, I don't know where I'll be tomorrow  
> Wheel in the sky keeps me yearning  
> I don't know, I don't know, I don’t know…
> 
> Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'…”  
> (Journey, 1977).

Chapter 45—Wheel in the Sky

 

“I have had enough of this!” Dudley spat, whirling on William. “If you want her, then by God, draw your sword!!”

William had anticipated Dudley’s attack and met his sword with a great clash of steel. But in that moment, he knew he would not be able to hold off his opponent for long. Dudley was young and strong, and William could feel that power coursing down his arm and through the meeting of their swords. What he’d told Victoria was true. He was not a man of action, but a man of words and diplomacy. He doubted very seriously even if he was a man still in his prime, he would be able to best Dudley with swords. Especially when his opponent was in a rage, and determined to take Victoria for himself. The only way he could do that now was to kill him. This was a fight to the death.

But for Victoria, he would go to the ends of the earth.

He fought Dudley back with a strength he did not know he had, and then a flash of light appeared out of the corner of his eye.

Through the tiny window, he saw it streak across the sky.

A shooting star.

His eyes met Victoria’s, and he knew she’d seen it too.

She held his eyes captive in hers. So luminous. So blue. So full of love and hope and desperate belief. How he wanted to be there for her! How he wanted to give her--everything. Everything a man could give a woman. She deserved that and more. So much more. And he wished…he wished with all his might, and in that moment, as their eyes met, it felt as if the world stopped its frantic spinning, holding them both together suspended in time, cradled and warm and safe in a place all their own.

 _I will love you till the end of time,_ he told her with his eyes. _I’m sorry…so sorry…I was not enough._

Then he felt a searing white heat pierce his side.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

Victoria’s voice. He looked up. Dudley’s triumphant face was much too close to him. Where was his sword?

His legs buckled and he landed on his knees. Put his hand to his side.

Blood. His blood. Running, coursing through his hand. Hot and sticky.

He felt dizzy. Numb. Faint.

“WIIILLLLIAAAMMMMMMM!!!”

Victoria, as if from far away, calling his name.

And he was sorry again. Sorry for so much. Sorry she had to witness this. She would be so distressed…so grieved. He was not worthy of her tears. Her grief should not be wasted…on himself…his heart broke for the pain he had caused her. He should not have allowed her…to stay…

“Fool,” Dudley said, laughing. “You could have had it all! Bess. The Earldom of Leicester…the world at your feet. But now you have lost everything. And she is mine anyway—as she should have been all along.”

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t…it was so hard to…think…clearly…

This was it. This must be…death. The face of his murderer was dimmer, blurry.

There was a great flash of blinding light, and William felt himself crumpling to the floor.

Victoria…had she…escaped? He whispered a silent prayer. _Oh God…please…let her be…safe…_

“Where is she! Where has she gone?”

“She has vanished, Sir! I saw it with my own eyes!”

“Vanished? What do you mean, ‘vanished’?”

“She were here…and then she were gone.”

“NO! She can’t be gone! Search the premises! Search everywhere! Find her! I want her before me NOW!”

Running boots. Running down the stairs. Boots on the floor, walking toward him. Stopping before his face. He blinked hard. Tried to focus. Tried to swallow. But he couldn’t feel his throat. He couldn’t feel anything.

“What a beautiful little whore you have died for,” Dudley said to him. “She has left you already, lying in a pool of your own blood, not yet cold. So much for her love for you! But I will have her anyway. I hope the knowledge of that comforts you on the way to your g—”

What happened next he did not expect.

* * *

_There was light. And voices all around him. But he could not move. Why could he not move?_

_He tried to open his eyes. But they remained stubbornly shut. The light surrounding him burned through his eyelids, painted them red._

_“Too soon,” one voice said. “He is here too soon.”_

_“Indeed,” said another. “It is before his time.”_

_“Well before,” the first voice said again. “For he has not yet been born. How is it he is here now when he has not yet been born?”_

_“He is out of place,” said the second. “And before his appointed hour.”_

_“His case is a special one,” said a third. “He has wished for it to be so.”_

_“But he is here too soon,” said the first. “It cannot be so. His presence here disrupts the pattern. As does his absence there, in his appointed place and time.”_

_“Truly,” said the third. “Therefore he must be restored.”_

_“His heart is valiant. His motive pure. He is here out of the very deepest love.” Said the first._

_“And there is another not yet here, who loves, and yearns for his return.” Added the second._

_“Yes. He must be returned.” The first voice agreed._

_“Restored and returned. To his proper place.” Said the second._

_“Indeed. Long have I watched over this one.” He felt a hand, heavy on his head. The hand of the third voice. Stroked back his hair. The touch was womanly, almost motherly. “His woven path has ever been a sad one. So much nobility. So much worth. Unrewarded. His plea has reached our ears. It shall be done. All shall be restored.”_

_“Yes,” said the other two voices in concert. “Restore him, and return him to the pattern. The pattern is flawed because he is absent. The pattern must be made right.”_

_The hand remained on his head. Words were spoken over him that he did not understand. Another hand touched his side. Searing pain infused him from that touch, but still he did not stir. When the words died down, a pair of very feminine lips touched his forehead as if in blessing, and dismissal._

_“It is done.”_

_Then he gasped. Air infused his lungs. He breathed long and deep. He coughed. Almost choked on it. He had not realized before that he had not been breathing. But still he could not open his eyes or speak._

_“Return,” was the command spoken, and he knew this one was addressed to him. “Return to the ones who love and need you. Your wish has been granted. Take your rightful place in the pattern.”_

* * *

Melbourne sat up with a start. Blinked his eyes. Where was he? And more importantly, when?

The sunlight beat down over him. It was midday, wherever, and whenever he was. Which was lucky, because it was damned cold where he was, lying in a snowbank.

He stood up, shook the snow from his limbs, his hair.

And started.

It was far, far easier to stand from a prone position than it should have been, considering how cold he was especially. How long had it been since he’d just…popped up from the ground that way? He’d been much younger, that much was certain. He ran a hand across the back of his neck thoughtfully, and was startled to feel hair. His own hair. It was…unaccountably longer than he had worn it in many years, covering the back of his collar. He ran his hand through the rest of it. Thicker too.

He felt his face, but it was clean-shaven. And…smooth. Very smooth.

What on earth…

He looked down at himself. He was slimmer. And his hands were strangely unlined. The scar on the back of his left hand was gone, somehow.

His heart started beating faster. What did this mean?

The last thing he remembered was…was…

Robert Dudley. He’d fought a battle with Robert Dudley.

And lost. He could feel the steel pierce his side…feel the dark, warm blood oozing over his hand. Feel the strength of his legs give out, feel the agony of trying to breathe…hear Victoria scream his name. Feeling sad, so sad she had to see…

Victoria.

_Victoria!_

He scrabbled with his clothes, searching the place that he knew Dudley’s sword had pierced him. Baring his skin, heedless of the cold and the outdoors, he verified his suspicion—his fear?

There was the rent that Dudley had made in his clothes. That gash itself was ghastly. But there was no scar beneath. No mark at all to indicate that he had ever been pierced by a blade!

Was he dead?

He swallowed hard. _God, no. Please do not let it be so. Not yet…I do not wish to leave her yet…_

Wish.

There had been a shooting star.

He had held her eyes across the room, had wished…

Oh, what he had wished!

He turned in a circle. He was out of doors, in the country, but there was more than a little that was memorable about this place.

He ran. He had to know. He had to…

He could run!

He could RUN!

Fast, free, without pain! Without being winded! Though the path was snowy and slippery, still he ran on. His body felt sleek! Fit! Powerful!

He actually threw his head back and laughed. It felt so good to run! So good to feel so good again!

He came to a halt some time later, scarcely out of breath, when he’d reached the bridge he knew would be there.

Brocket Hall.

But was this the Brocket Hall of his own time, or Elizabeth’s?

He ran across the bridge, across the broadwater. Down the drive. All the way to the front door. He banged on it impatiently.

“Yes?” His manservant gasped. “My _Lord?_ Is that you?”

“Yes,” he felt himself grin. “Why? Do I look different?”

“Sir? Is it…really you?” His manservant looked him up and down. Looked as though he might faint.

“Of course it is Baines. Who else would it be? May I come in?”

“Of course…forgive me…” His servant stood aside, white as a sheet.

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” he said with a laugh. “Have you?”

“I…am not altogether sure I have not…My Lord.”

He chuckled and ran up the stairs to his room, taking them two at a time, just because he could, all the way to the cupboard where his shaving mirror was kept. He pulled it forth…

And laughed.

And laughed again.

And whooped for joy.

“Baines! Baines!”

“My Lord?” Baines came in hesitantly.

“What year is it, Baines?”

“The..the year?”

“Yes! The year!”

“The year of our Lord…1840.”

He laughed again, and almost wept for joy.

“And uh…where is Her Majesty the Queen?”

“Her Majesty the Queen is at Buckingham Palace. And in a terrible state she has been ever since her…return, My Lord.”

“Terrible state? Why is she in a terrible state?” His joy faded.

“I believe…she is in mourning. For you, My Lord.”

His heart skidded in his chest and then sank to his toes. He swallowed hard.

“How long has she been back?”

“These three or four months now, My Lord.”

“Oh good God!” He sank down onto a nearby chair. “Bloody hell! She has been back for that long? You are quite sure?”

“Quite sure, Sir,” his man said sympathetically.

She had been here. All this time. Thinking him dead?

“Everything, Baines. Tell me everything.”

* * *

There was to be a ball tonight! A Christmas ball.

His butler had spent the better part of the afternoon filling him in. Victoria did think him dead. So did everyone else. So did he himself. Until he’d awaken in a field to find himself very much alive.

God the pain she’d been through, all because of him! It crushed him inside to think of it. Indeed he’d wept himself. Not for himself of course, but for her. The sad picture that Baines had painted of how deeply the Queen mourned him, how she’d had to be pried from his house by the Duchess of Kent fair broke his heart. God, his poor darling girl! What she had been through on his behalf!

But no more. Her pain ended tonight. And oh, did he relish the ending of it. It was over now. All over. They would be together, and he no longer cared who came against them. What objection would be raised. Whatever fire and brimstone he’d have to crawl across to win her, he’d do it. By God, he’d do whatever it took. He would not be separated from her now. Not ever again, while there remained breath in his body. And if his outward appearance was anything to go by, he would have breath in his body for considerably longer a time now than he ever would have thought possible.

One glance into his looking glass told at least part of the story anyway. Something miraculous had happened. He had been restored—for a purpose. And not merely restored, but made younger. Was that not a sign from heaven itself? How could he leave her now?

But…what would Victoria say to see him this way? Would she be delighted? Afraid? Disappointed?

Well. If it was the latter, at least they both knew that eventually a day would come in which she would once again be delighted by his appearance. That was more of a reassurance than most anyone else ever got.

What if she didn’t recognize him? Would he even gain admittance to the palace?

“Baines, draw me a bath, and then bring me the burgundy waistcoat and the long green coat, I think.”

“I’m sorry, My Lord, but I believe Her Majesty…uh…borrowed them.”

“What? Borrowed my clothes? Whatever for?” He frowned in confusion. “Never mind, Baines. Better bring me the red coat then, I think. With the dark gray waistcoat, and red cravat, with black breeches and the white stockings. Black dress shoes. Oh and that bath of course. And I shall require a shave.”

Lord Melbourne bathed, was shaved and dressed as well as he could, despite the fact his clothes were a trifle baggy. Still. It turned out his butler was quite adept at pins, and in a flash had his clothes looking fresh and tailored. So long as he didn’t move too suddenly and find himself stuck with one or more of the blasted things. He would send out to his tailor first thing in the morning. Have some new clothes fitted right away.

“Should I send a messenger to the Palace, My Lord? Her Majesty wished to be informed if you…er…returned.”

“No. No messenger. I want to surprise her.”

“Very good, My Lord. May I also say that I hope Her Majesty will be…delighted to see you, especially thus transformed?”

“Well I hope so. If not, she only has about twenty or thirty years to wait until I look my older self again. At least I hope she has that long!”

“As do I, My Lord. May I say it is a remarkable transformation.”

“It is nothing short of a miracle.”

“It is that, Sir.” Baines was all smiles. “A most wonderful miracle indeed.”

Lord Melbourne nodded. “Ready my carriage. I am most anxious to be away. Do send notice to Dover House to inform them I am returned, so that they may be ready should I have need of it. And a message to my sister, as well. And do not expect me back tonight.”

* * *

He pulled up at the palace, his heart beating wildly in his chest. All the way over from Brocket Hall he could think of nothing but Victoria.

What would she say when she saw him? Would she like him this way? Would she be in any way disappointed?

God he hoped not. He entertained himself on the journey to London with vision after lovely vision of sweeping his delighted, surprised and overjoyed little Queen off her feet and carrying her upstairs to her own rooms, to the scandal of one and all. Well she was his wife after all, was she not? And by some uncanny miracle he still had their wedding license to prove it, tucked safely inside his coat. Not that anyone would credit it. But he had it just the same. And by God, she was his. And he didn’t care how many times he had to marry her to make it so, but he would do it. Damn them all, but he would not give her up now. And he would waste not a day of his new life prevaricating about legalities.

Bloody hell he wanted her! How he would survive this first meeting without taking her immediately to her rooms he knew not. Now…now he could be a true husband to her. Now he could give her everything. He would no longer feel as if he had to apologize. No longer feel as if he were holding her back from a life she could have with a man her own age. Now they were of an age—together. And oh, how he relished her surprise…her delight. He would love her the whole of this night.

Many, many delicious dreams floated across his mind as he gazed out the window. Dear God, he could hardly wait. They had all their lives to love each other now! He could not stop the smile from spreading across his features. His heart too, was light. Lighter than it had any right to be. Oh, there would be obstacles. Definitely. But where he stood now, compared to what they’d already come through, the obstacles seemed as nothing at all. Together they would sweep them all aside. Together. God, they would be together again! Together. Invincible. Inseparable.

She would have to peel him off of her from now on. Banish him from her sight to get rid of him. Nothing short would ever keep him away again.

 _Soon My Love,_ he thought at her. _Soon. Your suffering will all be over. And by God, I’ll make it up to you, I swear I will. Every hour, every moment you suffered my absence, I will make it as though it never existed._

It would begin tonight.

He alighted from his coach and strode up the main steps, sauntered up them. God he had not realized how stiff he had become over the years!

There were gasps. Whispers. All of which amused him greatly, right up until he could hardly get past the first bloody door. He’d been obliged to send for the Duke of Wellington to vouch for him. The Duke had been himself most amusingly surprised. In fact Melbourne was unsure he’d ever seen the Duke at such a loss before.

“Well, Melbourne! Is that really you, man?” The Duke peered into his face. “I haven’t seen you look like this in a very long time indeed. Where have you been, my dear fellow? To the fountain of youth? And you didn’t think to bring me back even a little jar of the stuff?”

“Believe me if I had the opportunity, I would have brought you enough to effect the same transformation on you, my friend.” He clapped the older man on the back.

“It is remarkable! Whatever has happened to you?”

“It’s a long story, I’m afraid. Can you—” he indicated the doorman.

“Oh of course. Yes, I suppose you pass muster.” When he’d been cleared, the Duke continued. “Her Little Majesty has been quite beside herself, I’m afraid, my dear fellow. And all for thinking you were lost. She has been plunged into the most profound state of mourning I have ever seen.”

“Yes I have heard such. I am most eager to relieve her of it.”

“Does she know you’re here?”

“No. In fact I’ve only just returned. I discovered this afternoon about the rest. And heard about the ball and decided to attend. It is a fine Christmas surprise, don’t you think?”

The Duke looked at him strangely.

“You are in high spirits too.”

“I am. I have awaken this day to find myself transformed, I know not how. But I confess I am in high spirits, and eager to see Her Majesty.”

“My dear fellow, where have you been all this time? In point of fact, what did happen that night when you both disappeared? It is presumed you ran away with her. Eloped. A conclusion I admit I find hard to believe, but impossible to refute.”

“I’m afraid it is difficult to recount. Perhaps I might defer the account of it to you until after I have seen Her Majesty? I do not wish to keep her waiting one moment longer than necessary.”

Wellington looked at him hard. Assessing. Calculating. Melbourne returned his gaze boldly.

“By God man,” he said under his breath. “Is it true? Did you really elope with the Queen?”

“I did not set out to, no. But we were thrown into an impossible situation together. One thing and another we…”

“What?”

Melbourne took a deep breath. “Must you really ask?”

Wellington’s face grew very grave. “Yes. I think I must in fact.”

“I love her,” he said simply. “I have done from the very beginning. And she…she loves me too.”

“Dear God. Have you lost your wits along with your gray hairs? She is the Queen, man! One does not conduct a romantic dalliance with the Queen! And a virgin one at that!”

“It wasn’t a dalliance!”

“What you have done is tantamount to treason!”

“What I have done is to _love_ my _wife_! If that is treason, than so be it!”

“I suppose you have proof that this is true? That you are in fact married?”

“Of a sort. Although it takes some explaining. Though if you please I would like to speak with her first. For God’s sake, let her…at least…see me! Allow me to end her suffering and then I will submit to your interrogation willingly! But right now…Victoria is in torment thinking me dead! Please do not detain me now. For pity’s sake…for her sake…release me and please let me go to her!”

“All in good time. But first, my good man, I do require some answers. Where have you been? Why did she come back without you? Melbourne, you must allow this whole situation is damned irregular! And awkward. What the hell is going on?”

With a sigh, Melbourne reached inside of his jacket and took out the marriage contract, handing it without a word to Wellington.

“There. Read it if you must. It’s not the whole of it but…perhaps it will answer enough to gain me admittance to her presence.”

Wellington opened the dried parchment, then looked sharply at Melbourne. Then back at the parchment, squinting at it.

“You know my hand well enough.” Melbourne said.

“And Her Majesty’s.” Wellington finished, “'Viscountess Alexandrina of Prussia', indeed! And you—William Lamb, Earl of—Leicester? What the devil is this?”

“Well. I have no doubt that when we left again, that title went back to its proper owner.”

“You call this a marriage contract?”

“I do. It was.”

“In 1564? You cannot be serious in what you are suggesting!”

“You have the proof before you!” Melbourne tapped the parchment for emphasis. “Look at the date, man. Look at my signature, which you know to be mine! Then look at _me!_ Can you not see that something extraordinary has been at play here? I know…it is impossible to believe, but if you entertain the idea just once, you will see that all the pieces fall into place. Why we were gone without a trace. Why we did not come back. Why we came back separately. Why I am so _altered_!”

“But 1564! You cannot seriously suggest that you and Her Majesty were sent…backwards in time, can you?”

“Yes. And it was nothing short of a miracle that we both survived it. Between the…twin perils of Elizabeth and _Dudley_ …”

“You’d better have this back. And I think I need something very strong to drink.”

Melbourne nodded and placed the parchment back in his pocket.

“You should know, Her Majesty has told the same story. To her ladies. To the Duchess of Kent. I have heard, though she has not spoken of it to me directly. It is feared that her grief over you has cost her her wits.”

“And then I come in and give you the same story separately? Does this not cause you to believe? Why on earth if I had abducted her, would we ever come back here? Let alone separately, or both concoct such an outlandish story? Wellington, I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but surely you know I would never have voluntarily done such a thing as it is supposed I have done! Surely you do not believe me capable!”

“I confess I did not. But the appearance, man, was very damning.”

“I am sure it must have been. Although I am glad I was whisked back in time with her. I do not think she would have been back at all otherwise. Robert Dudley wanted her for his wife and, well, by the end Elizabeth had granted it.”

“Elizabeth! Queen Elizabeth! And Robert Dudley! Do you realize what you are saying!”

“Yes! I do! I lived it!” He sighed. “At the end, I did run away with her. From Elizabeth’s court. Elizabeth would not listen to reason, she…well…she wanted me you see. And Victoria was in the way. So when she granted me the earldom she gave Victoria to Dudley. My feelings aside, I knew if Dudley ever got her squirreled away somewhere I would never get her back again. Possibly never back home again. So we did elope, after all. And the whole thing ended with a duel and, well, Dudley was about thirty or so at the time and you know what age I was. He won. His sword went into my side and that was the last thing I remember before this afternoon. When I woke up in a field near Brocket in a snowbank. Quite young. I don’t know why. I don’t know how, certainly. But I do know one thing. I love the Queen. And as far as I am concerned, we are still married. She is my wife. I’ll marry her again, of course. A thousand times over. But give her up? No. Not unless she no longer wants me. We have been through too much for that now. I will not relinquish my claim to her.”

The Duke sighed and found a chair. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were stark, staring mad. But…look at you. I knew you when you did look like this. I remember it distinctly. You are William Lamb. I cannot deny…something has happened. And as you say, the pieces on this end do make sense with your story. God, what madness is this!”

“I don’t know either. How mad did you think I felt to find myself being…caressed and flirted with from a woman who I’d only ever seen in history books. It was quite extraordinary.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” the Duke laughed. “You were always the ladies man. And she by reputation had quite a few favorites, for all the reports of her famous virginity.”

“I am not the only ladies man, am I?” William laughed.

“Well. You had better luck with them.”

“You are the war hero though! Come on, admit it. The ladies love you too.”

“They did once. God how I envy you, Melbourne.” The Duke looked at him and sighed. “To be young again! To have a second chance with everything!”

“Hopefully.” He smiled. “I care only for a second chance with one thing. One person. She is all that matters to me. God, how she matters. But for her, I should not care if Dudley had killed me.”

“Dudley indeed!” The Duke chuckled. Then peered closely at him. “You really did meet her? Queen Bess?”

“Yes. I did. She barely let me from her sight for months. Poor Victoria. She suffered greatly while we were there.”

“What was she like?”

“Queen Bess? Oh. Beautiful. Truly. Her portraits do not do her justice. Fascinating. Very canny. She was enough to bewitch any man who’s heart was his own to give.”

The Duke nodded. “But yours was not.”

“No. Mine had been quite stolen away already.”

“I believe she loves you with the same intensity. It has been heartbreaking watching her these last few months. Although, you know, that license isn’t legally binding now. You will have to do it again before you can claim any...er...”

“I shall do it again, make no mistake,” he said with determination. “And as for any other technicalities, they can go to the devil. We are married. And my wife has been out of her mind with grief over losing me. I have been restored to not only life but to youth as well, and I’ll be damned if I let her spend another night alone.”

“Come, man! You can hardly expect to—”

“I can hardly expect? Look at me! What has happened to me? Did I die? Was I brought back? I don’t know! But surely you can appreciate my position? Do you honestly expect me to leave her tonight? We are married! We were married last time we saw each other and we are married now. I don’t give a damn for what anyone has to say about that. If I want to make wild, passionate love to my wife tonight--for the whole of the night without end--then I will do so. And I don’t need anyone’s permission but hers.”

“Melbourne…I do believe your hot blood has returned with your youth, along with youth’s propensity for hotheadedness. Politics aside, man, I am not your enemy. But you will make things no better for yourselves by taking the Queen to bed tonight. Surely a man as adept at politics can see that for what it is! A recipe for disaster!”

“I will make no things worse, either, if reports are to be believed. Everyone already thinks the worst! I thank you for the caution, just the same. I shall promise you only this--that I shall let the Queen decide what she would choose this night. If she chooses to spend the night alone, I shall not impose myself. But if she should choose my husbandly company,” he shrugged, and wagged his eyebrows, unable to keep the mischief out of his eyes. “Well. Who am I to deny my Queen anything?” He grinned.

* * *

Finally he’d taken leave of the Iron Duke, and sprinted all the way to the ballroom.

He spotted her right away.

How could he miss her? She was still the loveliest woman in the room. No matter the room. No matter the century.

His breath left him in a rush. The color of her gown made him smile, and pricked his heart with sadness at the same time. His poor, poor love. The thought of having caused her such grief threatened to flatten him. But his excitement at surprising her…at wiping it all away overcame all such regret. Soon it would be but a memory. Soon she would be in his arms, where she belonged.

And no one would take her away from him ever again.

She was dancing with Lord Alfred, who’s sad eyes were filled with sympathy, and a kind of brotherly love as he gazed at his royal dancing partner. Her back was to him. Heedless of anyone else in the room, he approached the dance floor, his eyes on her alone. He had not realized that he had crossed the floor, had not realized that his appearance had brought the whole room to a standstill, until Alfred locked eyes with him, and almost fainted where he stood. But for Victoria, he may have, poor fellow. He tried to smile. But his senses were overwhelmed by the woman before him.

“Your Majesty?” he heard himself say. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”

He heard her—felt her—gasp. She froze in Lord Alfred’s arms, and for a moment fear gripped him. Would she be happy or angry with him? Would she even turn to see him?

Lord Alfred gently released her, backed away, leaving the two of them alone in the center of the dance floor with all eyes watching.

And yet, she was the only person who really existed for him at all.

“Your Majesty?” He asked again, his heart in his throat. His breathing fast, shallow. _Please turn,_ he willed at her. _Please, God, turn. Say something. Be happy to see me, My Love._

She turned, and gasped.

Dear God, she was beautiful. He swallowed hard, and grinned as she took him in, her thoughts in her face, her blue eyes drinking in the sight of him, trying to process who she was seeing. She took him all in. His hair. His face. His body. Then back to his eyes. She was pleased, he could tell, despite her shock. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Merry Christmas Ma’am,” he whispered, and took her gently into his arms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After everything he's been through, I thought Lord M deserved his own chapter account of things. Now with the next chapter, we will progress in the story. I hope this answers some questions, while doubtlessly raising a few more. 
> 
> As always I look forward to your comments!


	46. Chapter 46--Straight Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William and Victoria are reunited at last at the Christmas ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “What can I say this time?  
> Which chord shall I play?  
> The dream is not over--  
> The dream is just away  
> And you will fly like some little wing  
> Straight back to the sun  
> The dream was never over,  
> The dream has just--  
> Begun!
> 
> The dream has just begun…
> 
> Fingers find the ivory  
> Keys and a song  
> Begins to begin  
> Like a wolf...on the run  
> And you will find while in the wind  
> Something that you lost  
> The dream was never over, no,  
> The dream was only--  
> Lost!
> 
> The dream has just begun…
> 
> She remembers how good it can be,  
> He remembers a melody,  
> Ah, in the shadow of my shadow,  
> In a gleam
> 
> He remembers how good it can be,  
> She remembers a melody,  
> Well, in the shadow of my shadow,  
> In a gleam
> 
> (Hours and hours of waiting for you  
> So strong and so fleeting)  
> The dream has just begun…  
> (Hours and hours of waiting this way...  
> Meeting me)  
> The dream has just begun...
> 
> Straight back...  
> Straight back…”  
> (Fleetwood Mac, 1982).

Chapter 46—Straight Back

 

The dance, the music, Lord Alfred, and the whole of the ballroom and all of its occupants dissolved and disappeared around them. They were the only two people in the room. In the whole of the world.

She felt her hand slide into his. His other circled her back, leaving her left hand to grip his arm lightly. His hold on her was so warm, so familiar, and so different at the same time. She trained her gaze straight ahead, fixed on his cravat. Red cravat. Red jacket. Dark smoke gray velvet waistcoat.

He was always so impeccably dressed. Always took her breath away. She knew if she looked up at his face again, she would see how the dark shades complemented his fair skin, his dark hair, the dark red of his lips. The deep green of his eyes.

She blinked several times, trying to clear her vision. Drew in a deep, ragged breath.

Was this was it was to feel alive again? This breath…was as the first she had drawn since she had seen Dudley’s sword pierce his side, seen him fall to his knees in that attic, seen his hand come away from his side covered in dark red blood…

“Your Majesty?” He whispered.

He held her so lightly. So lightly and yet so firmly. The touch of his hand in hers, the feeling of his strong arm beneath her other, his hot hand on her back…

She closed her eyes. Could not stop the tears. Could not force her feet to move in the dance.

“Perhaps you might wish to sit this one out…Ma’am?” He whispered, low and close to her ear. “Or…would you prefer I find Lord Alfred instead?”

She shook her head. She could not speak. She could only stand in the circle of his arms and will him never to release her again.

“No,” she whispered. “Oh no. Please do not leave me. Please do not ever leave me again.”

“I shall not,” he whispered. “I swear to you I shall never leave your side again.”

She gasped for air.

“Dance with me, Ma’am,” he whispered again. “Like we used to. It will steady you, I think.”

She nodded at his cravat, still too afraid to look into his eyes. If he was not William Lamb, she wanted to pretend he was. Just for one dance. Just once more to feel his arms around her…

They set off slowly, his lead at once commanding and gentle, as ever it was. For a time they did not speak, and she fixed her gaze on his throat. Eventually her body began to remember itself and moved freely, intuitively, so in tune with her partner that they moved as one.

They were as one. In every respect.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. Feeling everything all at once. She could have sworn the babe in her belly felt him too, and knew that for the first time since the time of his conception, his father was here again, at last.

“Does my new appearance offend you so, Your Majesty?”

“What?” She said opening her eyes and addressing his cravat.

“You have hardly looked at me,” he said gently. “Am I so much changed that you cannot bear me, then?”

She almost choked on a sob.

“Your Majesty?”

“I—I…”

“Please…” he whispered, abandoning courtly speech.

She swallowed hard and raised her eyes slowly. Taking in his chin. His red mouth. His strongly chiseled cheekbones, still visible beneath a face made softer by youth. His eyes. His devastating eyes.

She almost choked on her next breath.

He smiled gently. “There now. That wasn’t so bad, I hope?”

She still could not speak. She could barely stand. His beauty was blinding. Robbed her of breath. And yet, it was him. It was her William, her Lord M, smiling at her from deep inside those luminous green eyes.

"You are so beautiful tonight...Ma'am.  You quite take my breath away."

She paused, bringing their dance to a halt. Lost in his eyes, she reached up slowly and cupped his cheek with her gloved hand.

She took in his gasp, her own. Watched in slow motion as his eyes closed, impossibly long, beautiful lashes fanning his cheeks as he shuddered under her touch. Then she applied the slightest pressure, and he lowered his face to hers as she stretched up to meet him, her breath impossibly shallow, ragged, as she touched her lips to his.

Fire. It frizzled down her body from his lips, igniting her all the way to her toes. 

She may have cried out against his mouth as he swept her into his arms, pulled her tightly against him. She kissed him with all the love and longing of her heart, the impossible agony of the last few months and the joy of the moment all rolled into one.  She kissed him and kissed him and went on kissing him, and did not care that they were quite out in the open, with the eyes of all the court upon them. 

Let them watch.  Let them whisper.  Let them be shocked.  She was through caring what they thought.  Here was everything that mattered.  Everything that made existence tolerable.  Everything she had ever and would ever need.  And she did not care if the whole world knew it.

He had come back to her! He had come back! From the past, from near death, when she thought…she had thought…all hope was lost, he was here again! She wound her hands in his hair, thicker and longer than she remembered but still so baby soft and so maddeningly curly, holding him hard and gave herself up to him, to the moment, to the sweet taste of life in his kiss.

When last they broke apart she was trembling all over. His forehead touched hers, and his thumbs gently wiped away her tears.

His eyes, dark as emeralds, soft with love, opened slowly, gazed into hers. "Careful," he said softly, "You might make me think you missed me...Ma'am." 

"Don't 'Ma'am' me, Husband," she whispered, nuzzling him.  "And yes, I did miss you.  At least a little."

"A little?" He huffed a laugh, kissing her nose.  "Wife.  I am sorry indeed to have kept you waiting."

"Well.  And I expect you think I will forgive you?"

"I hope you shall.  I was unavoidably detained."

"I shall have to consider it," she said, making him smile.  "Most carefully."

"Well..." he said, his eyebrows dancing, "perhaps I shall have to devise a way to make it up to you?"

"Perhaps you shall."

He nodded. Straightening and clearing his throat he said more loudly, “Your Majesty, perhaps you would care for a…bracing walk…out on the balcony?”

"Indeed I would, _Husband_ ," she said pointedly, and slipped her arm through the crook of his elbow.

* * *

“There you see? He has already taken her away again!” Leopold said angrily, watching as Lord Melbourne led the Queen quietly out of the ballroom.

“Do not fuss, my dear brother,” the Duchess whispered to him soothingly, laying a hand on his arm. “Allow them this moment, please. Drina has been so upset thinking he was dead. And now, just like that, she is happy again. I do not wish to spoil it for her.”

“You seem to have forgotten, my dear sister, that Lord Melbourne is responsible for your daughter’s current dishonor. That he kidnapped the Queen of England in the middle of the night and disappeared with her for months. That he then deflowered her and got her with child! And you want to allow them time for a tender reunion?”

“I do.”

“He should be arrested,” Leopold said under his breath. Then swore in German.

“Leopold!”

“How is such a man allowed to walk free in society? He should be arrested and hung for treason! And yet here he is, at a ball to which he was not invited, and allowed not only to dance with the Queen as free as you please, but then to quietly walk away with her again!”

“He was not invited because Drina thought him dead! Do you honestly believe he would not have been invited had she known he was alive and well?” She huffed a sigh. “Drina loves him. I wish it was not true but she does. You have been here! You have seen what his loss has done to her! She was almost destroyed by it. But for the child I think she would have tried to kill herself, she was so far gone in grief. Leopold,” she said gripping his arm again as her brother moved to say something, “I know it does not fit in with your plans for her. Or with mine. But I think we must acknowledge the truth of things. She is carrying Lord Melbourne’s child. And Lord Melbourne is here now, not dead. How can you still expect Albert to marry her now? That possibility is gone. Even you must see it. We should all accept my daughter’s choice.”

“If justice is served, he will not be alive to see his illegitimate offspring born, let alone to marry the woman he has so dishonored! And Albert would again be the perfect candidate for her hand. He is kind and generous of nature. He would find it in his heart I am sure, to forgive her. Then, when the child is born it can be fostered elsewhere and--”

“Leopold! How can you suggest such a thing!”

“There is no good venting your anger upon me. I suggest merely a solution. Lord Melbourne is a traitor to his own country! Why am I the only one who can see that it is the truth? Has Melbourne bewitched you as much as your daughter? Is there no end to his charm upon women?”

“Of course he has not!” The Duchess sighed. “But I do not believe him to be a criminal! I do not believe that he kidnapped her.”

“My dear sister…”

“I do not believe it! You saw how he is with her. How tender. How attentive. It is clear he loves her very much. And Melbourne is a politician. A former Prime Minister. Such a man could not be a common criminal--a kidnapper. If they left together, Drina went with him willingly. I am sure of it!”

“My dear sister, any man who would be courting the richest woman in the world would be tender and attentive. And Lord Melbourne’s politics have never been confined to the exalted halls of Parliament! He is not exactly a novice at convincing women that he is in love with them. His escapades are notorious!”

“I am aware of it. But with Drina it is different. I am sure it is.”

“Do you honestly think he is in love with her for her own sake? Do you really believe that were she not queen of the wealthiest country in all of Europe that he would spare any thought for her?”

“You are such a cynic, brother. I sometimes wonder that you are capable of seeing good in anyone or anything. How did your wife ever put up with you? To say nothing of the others.”

“Whereas you, sister, are wholly too romantic for your own good. A trait I very much fear Victoria shares with you. All the more reason for wiser heads to step up and intervene.”

“No. You will not intervene.”

“What did you say?”

“I said you will not intervene, Leopold. Not yet.”

“But I don’t think you understand…”

“No. I don’t think you understand. I almost lost my daughter. Until Lord Melbourne walked back in the room and I witnessed her come back to life. I don’t want to take that from her, Leopold. Not now. We thought Albert would be much better for her, but what if we were wrong? And there is more too…something has happened to Lord Melbourne. Did you notice his looks? So young now. But clearly it is him.”

“Yes,” Leopold said thoughtfully, “I confess I did. It is a great puzzlement. A man does not simply grow younger. One wonders what has happened to him.”

“Whatever it is…he is about Drina’s age now. Not so very much older as he was before. ”

“But he is the same man inside.”

“Clearly he is. One has but to look at them together to see it. And now that he is younger, and she is bearing his child…do you not see? I do not think it is a coincidence. Perhaps there is something at work here larger than ourselves. Perhaps something happened to them both separately that night, that ended them up together? If that were so, brother, it would be very wrong of us indeed to break them apart now. Especially now she is carrying his child.”

“Surely you are not suggesting something…supernatural…has occurred here?”

“I do not know. But as you yourself say, how does a man simply grow younger? Until we can answer that, I think we should allow Drina and Melbourne time together, and let things take their own course.”

“He will try to sleep with her tonight. I guarantee it.”

“I do not see how we can prevent that,” the Duchess said with a sigh, snagging a glass of champagne from a servant’s tray nearby. “I do not like it, but after all, she is already carrying his child. What more could he do to her?”

Leopold huffed a laugh. “Well. Perhaps I was wrong about you after all, sister. You are not so romantic as you seem. Do I detect a hint of cynicism in you after all?”

“You men make of us cynics, my dear brother,” the Duchess said, taking a long drink. “If you did not wish it so, then you should look to your own behavior as the remedy for it. At least for my daughter, I believe she has found the rarest commodity any woman ever could—a man who truly loves her.”

“Yes—but what will the country say, have you considered that? Will they be as swept away by this romantic tale as you are, or will they take a more—cynical view—like I do? And what do you think they will say when the fact comes to light that her own mother allowed Melbourne to take her to bed upon his return, quite unchallenged, and without proof of any marriage having taken place at all?”

The Duchess sighed. “You are right of course.”

“Of course. And you are seeing reason at last. However, I will give you my word that I will not be the one to confront them this evening. I will leave that to you. You may consider it a sort of Christmas gift from me to you. However tomorrow…you may expect me to step up and be the uncle—and father—that Victoria needs me to be. Whether you, or she, like it or not.”

* * *

William slipped his free hand over hers and smiled into her eyes. Dear God, what a welcoming kiss! And before what appeared to be the entire court! 

Part of him still shrank away from so publicly declaring their affection for one another, though another, more honest part of him felt like crowing from the rafters at this very public, very decided display of affection from his lady wife. Doubtlessly now they would both be called to account for it. The scandal would be endless.

He sighed inwardly. Old life or new, he seemed destined to live at the center of scandal and palace intrigue. He for one was bloody sick and tired of having his steps dogged by all and sundry. She was his wife! In this century or any other. He was tired of secrecy. Tired of pretense. He wanted the world to know she belonged to him, and he wanted them to know it now. He’d marry her again this very moment, if he could.

The sooner they could put this issue to bed, the better.

The sooner he could get her to bed, the better too.  His poor Queen.  How she had suffered on his account.  How sad it made him to think of it.  But now the time for tears was over.  Well.  Nearly over.  And then he would set about making up for all of it.  Until it faded from her memory like a bad dream. 

God, the need to make love to her, and more besides, was visceral. To curl his body around her, to cradle her in his arms. To whisper soft words to her in the deep of the night, and hold her in that magic place that was all their own. God, he needed it as badly as he needed to breathe. They both did. The sooner they could make their escape from here, the better. How he wished he could throw her over his shoulder and run her out of the ballroom.

He pressed her hand, and she gave his arm an almost shy squeeze, still looking up at him as if she didn’t quite believe he was real. To be fair, he supposed, his new younger face might take some getting used to.

All the more reason why they needed to leave this place. As quickly as could be managed.

They wandered into a dark corridor, quite away from the glow of candles and the traces of music, and he pulled her around himself to stand before him, both of his hands in hers. She smiled up into his eyes.

“William! How is this possible? I know you are he and yet…you are so changed. So changed…and yet, not at all.”

“Truly I do not know. But I am loathe to complain about it. Unless…you do not…favor…the change.”

“You are the handsomest man in all of Europe, William. No matter your age. And I love you—and shall love you—no matter how old or young you are, just the same. Only, pray, do not get any younger. For if you were younger than me I could not bear that.”

“I do not think you will have to worry about that. It is shocking, I will admit. I must be about your age now, although I have no real idea. Other than I haven’t felt this young and…energetic…in a very long time.”

“You feel it as well as look it?”

“I do. Except I have somehow retained all of my memories and knowledge and am, in every way that matters, still as elderly as ever.”

“You are not now, nor have you ever been ‘elderly’, Lord M. As I keep reminding you. I do not see you as such.”

“No. You never have. You have always looked upon me as you do now. Well. Nearly.” He smiled at her. “With you I always felt myself younger. But when I looked in the mirror, I was still the same old elderly gent, and wondered what in blazes you saw in me.”

Her look became comically droll. “I see you still retain your biggest flaw, William. Your same propensity to undervalue yourself remains. As does your persistent denial of your own irresistible charm over women.”

“Irresistible charm, is it?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “ _Irresistible_ charm. Hmm…” he dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her closer. “As long as I am irresistible to one woman, I am well content.”

“You know you are,” she said smiling. “For I never have been able to resist your charms, or your beauty.”

“Beauty indeed!” he scoffed. “That is a term best applied to you, my darling girl.”

“Men can be beautiful, can they not? Especially to a woman?”

“I hardly know. My experience has been rather one-sided upon the issue.”

“Well, then you must take my word for it,” she said, holding both his arms with hers and rising up to her toes to kiss him. He returned her kiss with passion.

"It was the star, was it not?" She said when he released her.  "The shooting star?"

"I do not know. One moment I was curled into a ball of agony in that attic and the next...I woke up in a snowbank not far from Brocket Hall--today.  I ran home and well, found out there was to be a ball and invited myself.  I hope you do not mind the imposition?"

"You know I do not.  You are the best Christmas present I have ever received."

"Oh dear.  What ever will I do next year as an encore?"

"You will be here, with me."  She said, wrapping her hands around his shoulders.  "You are all I need, every year, hereafter."

He kissed her, slowly, sensually.  "I am yours forever," he whispered.  "Command me.  What would you have of me, my Queen?  How can I serve you?"

“Marry me again,” she said suddenly. “Here, in our century. Immediately. Tomorrow!”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her adorable nose again.  Her delicious lips. “A thousand times over, yes.”

“And stay with me tonight,” she breathed, touching his hair, his face. “Oh my darling, I have been without you so long. I cannot bear it another moment.”

He took her mouth again and kissed her.  Deeply.  Opening his mouth against hers, giving her his tongue, making love to her mouth with his, drinking in her sighs. 

“You know I will,” he whispered at last. “I would not leave you tonight. Tonight or ever again.  Not unless you asked me to."

"I never shall," she said, laying her head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her sigh against him as her body melted into his. 

"I am sorry, Victoria.  So sorry for what you had to witness.  What you must have gone through."

"You could not prevent it.  And it is over now.  You are here.  At last, My Love," she said, fingers tracing down his waistcoat. 

He settled his cheek against her head, feeling more content then he ever had a right to feel.

“There is…something..I need to tell you,” she said a little while later, raising her eyes to his. “Something important. But not here. Not like this. Tonight. When we are safe. And alone—”

He kissed her again. One more long, lingering, glorious kiss.

“The more you talk of later, the more eager I am to hasten its arrival. Would that we could go now!”

“As am I. But I think we should return to the ball. If only for a little while. Emma and Harriet have worked so hard to put it together. I do not wish for it to end too soon, for their sakes.”

“Very well…for theirs certainly, but more for yours.” He kissed her one last time, releasing her with great reluctance. “Bloody hell woman, what you do to me,” he said as he placed her hand back on the crook of his arm. “I shall need a great, towering stack of dispatches to hide the evidence of your effect upon me this evening, and I have none to hand.”

“Indeed,” she said, casting her eyes downward and arching an eyebrow at him.  "I don't see anything out of place, Lord M."

“Minx,” he growled into her ear. “Just wait until I get you alone.”

* * *

Victoria and William casually returned to the ball, smiling and talking like the old friends they were, and immediately he swept her into the dance.  They danced together for turn after turn, and it was clear to one and all that no one else in the room existed for either of them but each other.  Until at length she declared she was tired, and they both left the swirl of dancing couples and stopped for some refreshment.

Having first seen to her needs, William spotted Emma across the room, and left her side at last to go speak with his old friend. She watched him walk away, taking in the movements of his body, the set of his shoulders. Truly she could not get enough of looking at him, her heart and soul had been drinking in the sight of him all evening. He was back. And it was everything. She could think of nothing but the ball’s ending, and taking him away with her to her rooms where she would have him all to herself again. At long last.

“Drina! A word!”

It was, of course, her mother.

Victoria sighed, but as William’s eyes flashed at her so deliciously from across the ballroom, she turned to her mother smiling. “What is it, Mama?”

Her mother sidled up to her, tension in her shoulders as she cupped her champagne glass between two gloved hands. She leaned in close to whisper to Victoria.

“I am happy that Lord Melbourne has returned,” she began.

“Thank you, Mama,” she said with a genuine smile.

William was engaged in conversation with Emma currently on the other side of the dance floor. His eyes were brilliant as emeralds in the candlelight as he met her gaze and winked, the expression in them leaving her breathless.

“But you do know you cannot take him to your bed tonight.”

Victoria’s light heart sank, and she felt herself growing instantly irritable. “My _husband_ belongs at my side, Mama. And that includes in my bed.”

“Drina, please understand. He may be your husband, but until the ceremony is public, he is not in the eyes of the people. To take him to bed would be scandalous.”

“No Mama.” She said, watching him as he turned back to Emma, his long hair falling over his forehead in a wave she longed to touch, a grin on his face she longed to kiss. His big shoulders shifting and moving beneath his red jacket.

How had he come back to her so altered? And yet so gloriously himself. She was not wont to complain at all. If anything, he was just…more. More of everything. More handsome. Stronger.  More charming than ever.

More…would he be more in other ways too? She was not sure she could survive more. But oh, how she was willing to try.  Try, or die trying. Certainly there could be no pleasanter way to die.

He glanced up to see her gaze on him and waggled his eyebrows at her, lips unfurling into a slow, sensuous smile. The heat rose in her face. Oh yes, he knew what she was thinking. She watched with amusement as he stood even straighter and struck an elegant pose. He was teasing her now, clearly pleased by her bold glances. She licked her lips quite unconsciously.

“Nor should you undress him from across the room with your eyes,” her mother clicked her tongue in disapproval, snapping Victoria back to herself. “For shame! The whole court can see the way you look at him!”

She turned to her mother, impatience and fury choking her. “Whether I undress my _husband_ with my eyes or with my hands is no one’s business but mine and his. And if I choose to take my husband to my bed and spend the entire night making love to him, that is also our business. Not anyone else’s. Including yours, Mama.”

“Drina!” She said, eyes going wide for a moment. Then she sighed. “There is no need for you to be so direct. I realize that he is your lover already.  You are carrying his child, after all. The damage to your reputation is already done. But you must keep up the appearance of propriety or there will be more scandal.”

“He is more than my lover, Mama! He is my husband. _Husband_. Do you not hear me say the word?”

“I hear it. And I know you think of him that way. But there is no proof! And there must be a ceremony before people can accept that you have married your former Prime Minister.”

“I have no objection to a ceremony. In fact that will be our first order of business tomorrow. But I do not merely 'think of him that way', we are already married, and I refuse to pretend otherwise. How can you or anyone else seriously expect me to, when I am already carrying his child! And that is common knowledge already. To all, but one man. The one man in the world who must needs know, and as soon as I have him to myself tonight I shall enlighten him.”

“Drina—”

“—No more! Enough, Mama. For the last four months I have thought him dead. You more than most have known how I have suffered! How can you expect me to let go of him now? I need him, Mama. I need him so much I can hardly breathe.”

The Duchess sighed, and her face softened. “Oh, my poor little girl! How I wish it had been different! Poor dear Albert would have been so good for you. And you for him. I know you could have loved him. If only you had given him a chance.”

“’Poor dear Albert’ will find someone else, Mama. It is not as if we are the only two people in the world.”

“I know. But it is no good now. You have made your choice, and even if you did not wish to, you would have to marry Lord Melbourne anyway, because of the child.”

“I want nothing more in the world. He is the best man I have ever known. He is everything to me.”

“I know,” the Duchess smiled. “And Providence has seen fit to return him to you as a younger version of himself. That is a miracle we cannot ignore. It must be for some purpose.”

“Indeed it must.”

“At least you will have the comfort of sharing a lifetime together. Not just a few years.” The Duchess smiled again a little wryly. “Well. I promised your Uncle Leopold I would speak with you tonight, and I have. So he cannot reproach me. And for appearances sake no one can say that I permitted you to sleep with him before a ceremony can take place. However…”

“Oh Mama!” Victoria said with a smile.

“Is it too much to ask you both to be discreet? Your Uncle does not take kindly to Lord Melbourne’s return, Drina. He will try to dissuade you I think. I managed to prevent him discussing it with you tonight, but he will have his say in the morning.”

“Yes Mama. Oh, Mama!”

“Do not look too grateful. Remember, I am chiding you.”

“Yes of course, Mama. And…thank you,” she whispered.

“Now. Aren’t you going to storm away from me angrily, like you usually do? For appearances’ sake.”

There was humor, as well as hurt around her mother's eyes as she spoke.

Victoria did as her mother bade, hoping she made it look good. But in her heart, she found herself questioning everything she’d ever thought she’d known about her mother. If the Duchess could accept William as Victoria’s husband after all, perhaps it was time for them both to put the past behind them?

* * *

Victoria and William left the ball independently, casually, though Victoria was under no illusions that the entire court knew where Lord Melbourne would be sleeping tonight, and that it would not be at Dover House, nor indeed in the guest wing of Buckingham Palace.

Once they were both inside, Victoria bolted all the exterior doors, including the one to Lehzen’s room.

Dash was beside himself with joy at seeing his second favorite person again after such a long absence.

“Hullo boy,” William cooed at him, petting his ears and allowing himself to be licked, “You remember me, do you, eh? Do I look different to you?”

Victoria stood in the doorway to her bedchamber, watching the touching spectacle before her and reflecting happily on how it would be this way from now on. What a change from when she left her rooms this evening until now! William looked up and caught her eye and smiled slowly.

“Dash has missed you too,” she said softly.

“And I have missed him! Yes I have—there’s a good boy! You’ve been looking after your mistress, have you? Of course you have…and you’ve done a jolly good job of it, too. Well, now I’m here. I shall help you from now on.  Would you like that?  Hmm?” He gave the dog a final affectionate ruffle of his ears and then stood, chuckling softly, his eyes on her.

Dash, seeming to recognize he was now superfluous, and having greeted them both properly, was content to pad back to his rug by the fire.

They stood a long moment, gazing at each other. Victoria was surprised to realize that she was nervous. Perhaps it was because he looked different. Perhaps it was because she was with child. Perhaps it was the distance of centuries since the last time she’d lain with him, and all that had happened in between.

He came to her slowly, and in the softness of his gaze she saw that he understood. She smiled. How like himself!  He always understood her, better than she did herself sometimes.

He stood before her, his eyes patient but intense. Watching her. Waiting for her consent.

She reached out a hand, placed it on his lapel, stroking his coat lightly with her thumb. He stood, still and silent, content to let her touch him, understanding her need to reacquaint herself with him.

Her other hand joined her first, tracing the lines of his jacket softly and slowly.  Then with a sigh she fell against him, nuzzling her face into his waistcoat as his arms came up around her. How delightful to feel his waistcoat against her cheek again, and this time, it was not a pillow!

She breathed him in. The scent of him like wine.

His hand circled into her hair and he held her close, lips pressed against the top of her head.

"There is something I need to tell you," she said into his waistcoat.

“Yes?”

She shook her head. “First…help me…out of this gown.”

He gazed at her for several moments, then kissed her slow and sweet. His kiss, so familiar, so intoxicating, calmed her final fears, and soon they were peeling off each other’s layers, one at a time.

Gingerly she helped him out of his clothes—for he did have quite a few pins.  And when he stood before her, gloriously naked, she was taken aback at how different he looked. His body was slimmer, tauter, shaped with beautifully lean and graceful muscles.

She held her breath as he relieved her of everything as well. How good his hands felt upon her again! How she had missed his touch!  He had all of it off within minutes, until she was standing before him in her shift and stockings.

Why was she so nervous? Was she hoping he would notice? Or that he wouldn’t?

Her back was to him, and his hands were hot on her shoulders, his breath misting warmly past her ear.

“Turn around,” he whispered in her ear. “I want to feast my eyes on you.”

She did as he asked, heart hammering. He smiled into her eyes, nuzzled her nose then kissed her slowly, languidly.

“I am going to make love to you all night long,” he whispered. “My darling wife. My lover. My--” he pushed the shift from her shoulders.

Victoria closed her eyes and held her breath. When she opened them again, she saw his eyes riveted to her body. His mouth slightly ajar.

Oh yes, he had noticed.

But didn’t he always notice everything about her? From the smallest detail to the most profound change, nothing ever escaped him. Physical or otherwise.

His eyes took her in, flitting from her rounder, plumper breasts to her swollen belly.  He blinked. Once. Twice. Swallowed hard, still staring at her as if in disbelief. His mouth opened as if he tried to form words, but nothing came forth.

“I’m glad you said yes, William,” she spoke softly. “Our child needs his father.”

A sound that was half sigh, half moan escaped him and he dropped to his knees before her, never taking his eyes from her belly. Slowly, tentatively, as if afraid to reach out, his hands moved of their own volition and covered her abdomen in wonder.

And in that moment, she felt…she felt…a swirling sensation. As if her belly were being stirred, or was occupied by a small bird that had only now chosen to flap its wings. Motion, quite independent of her, reacting to the touch of his hands on her body.

She gasped. Covered his hands with hers, pressed them in closer. “Can you feel him?”

“Yes,” he said suddenly, great tears running down his cheeks.

“So can I!” Victoria said, with a sob of her own. “Oh William. He knows. He knows his father is here at last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a difficult chapter to write. I know that many of you probably have questions, just as the court has questions. Answers will be coming soon. But in the meantime, this was a chapter primarily for Victoria and William.


	47. Chapter 47--You Only Live Twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something of an indulgence. Victoria and Lord M have a nice, long night together, and some much needed pillow talk. :) 
> 
> **HEAT Advisory! NSFW**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You only live twice  
> Or so it seems  
> One life for yourself  
> And one for your dreams
> 
> You drift through the years  
> And life seems tame  
> Till one dream appears  
> And love is it's name
> 
> And love is a stranger  
> Who'll beckon you on  
> Don't think of the danger  
> Or the stranger is gone
> 
> This dream is for you,  
> So pay the price  
> Make one dream come true,  
> You only live twice…”  
> (Nancy Sinatra, 1966).

Chapter 47—You Only Live Twice

 

William pressed his lips to her belly, kissing her, kissing his babe. Victoria wound her hands in his hair, tears in her own eyes as he covered her belly with his kisses. He was beside himself with joy, and her own heart felt so full it must surely burst. He raised his eyes to her at last, green eyes shining with tears.

“Ours?” He said in something like disbelief. “Truly?”

“Of course!” She said smiling. “Are you pleased?” she asked, though she knew the answer.

He nodded, his face breaking open into a wide grin she had rarely ever seen him wear before. “Yes,” he said, blinking hard. “Yes, oh yes. I am pleased. I could not be more so.” He planted another kiss on her belly. “Hello in there…” he whispered. “Hello my little one. Do not fear. Your Papa is here now. He’s going to take care of you and Mama. We're a family now.” He kissed her belly again, and Victoria felt the baby move against him. “I love you,” he whispered, and the baby fluttered.

She thought her heart might break for happiness.

“William,” she whispered, “Oh William. I have missed you so.”

His face crumpled and he stood again, taking her face into his big, warm, capable hands, cradling her gently as he nuzzled her.

“I am so sorry,” he said, kissing her brows, her eyes, the tip of her nose. “It’s over. It’s all over now, and I am here. I will never leave your side again. Neither of you.” He covered her mouth with his.

She dissolved into his kiss, cried out against his lips. Four months of the blackest despair, of the deepest regret and uncertainty and loss, she poured into her kiss. What she wouldn’t have given before she’d left this room tonight for this! For one more kiss…for any sight, sound, touch, scent of him! And now, here he was. Oh, here he was! Her William…her Lord M…her love…the father of her child…her husband! Oh he was back! By a miracle of God, he was back!

“Shh,” he broke away, kissing the tears from her cheeks. “Do not weep, my darling. I am here…”

But once the dam had broken inside of her, she could not stop herself weeping. She clung to him and wept for the beauty of his arms around her, his lips against hers, the tenderness of his touch, the sound of his voice once again caressing her ears when she thought never to hear it ever again.

For the one man who was everything to her.

“Hold me,” she choked out, “Oh please h-hold me and d-don’t ever—let—me—go!”

* * *

William wrapped his arms tight around her, giving her all the reassurance his body could give her as she sobbed against him. Over her shoulder, he squeezed his own eyes tight shut, unable to stop his own tears. “I never shall. I never shall let you go.” he whispered over and over, soothing her as he could, his own heart bursting with love.  And a child too? Oh dear God, his joy threatened to swallow him. 

They stood awhile, wrapped in each other's arms, content for the moment just to hold and be held.  But when she shivered, he reached down and slid a hand beneath her knees and swept her up into his arms, as she clung to his neck, still weeping off and on as he carried her to her bed and lay her gently down upon it, sliding her into the coverlet as he went to stoke the fire.

"William."

He turned to her and smiled.  "Yes my love?"

“I need you,” she whispered, “so much.”

He stood and returned to her, brushing her hair back from her forehead with the back of his hand, gazing deeply into the crystal blue of her eyes, still shimmering with tears.

“How shall I serve you, Ma’am?” he whispered, kneeling by the side of the bed and taking her hand in his, kissing her knuckles softly. “You have only to command me, you know. My life is in your service.”

She gasped. Sniffled once.

Her eyes lowered, the blue in them deepening as her mouth parted and she sighed. Pink tongue darting out, moistening her lips. “I think you know what I need already, Lord Melbourne.”

His brows shot up and he gave her a half smile. “Well now,” he said, “While I appreciate your faith in me, Ma’am, and my abilities, they do not include mind reading.”

She looked up at him sharply, saw he was teasing her, and smiled. There it was. Her beauteous smile. There had been more than enough tears for his beloved on his behalf. He wanted only joy for her now. And that began tonight.

Besides, it was too delicious, this game they played. He knew what it did to her to revert back to their old roles and ways of being, whilst being naked in bed together—or at least in the bedroom. Truth was he quite enjoyed it too. It was so naughty.  God. It was a damned good thing he had not known back then that this was in their future. How badly he had burned for her! Just the thought…the suggestion…of being near her in a state of dishabille, let alone total nakedness would have sent him over the edge. How far they had come, indeed.

“Do they not?” She said, smiling slowly, raising up slightly and drawing her fingertips up over his arm to his shoulder and down onto his chest, brushing softly over his own breast. “I thought you could do everything.”

“You flatter me…Ma’am,” he said, grinning at her. “And you know how susceptible I am to flattery. Particularly yours.”

“Come here,” she whispered.

“As you wish, Ma’am.” He fixed his eyes on hers, bit his lip and twiddled his eyebrows at her playfully. Oh yes, she loved it when he looked at her that way. Already the clouds were dissipating. Good. Yes, very good. He stood slowly, enjoying the way her eyes traced the lines of his body, landing appreciatively in one certain place that truly did flatter his ego. Equally slowly then, he climbed over her to her other side, and settled himself down next to her, propped up on one elbow as his eyes held hers. He took her hand in his again and kissed it, his lips lingering against her skin, kissing a little trail up to her wrist, her arm. “Now what would you have of me, Your Majesty?”

“What could I be thinking, I wonder? What could I be…needing? Aching for?”

“I couldn’t say with any great certainty, Ma’am,” he whispered, as she rolled over to face him. “As you have not yet expressed your wishes clearly.” Her breasts _were_ larger, he observed.  How perfectly delightful. 

“Could you not?” she said, teasing him back now, running her fingers through his chest hair and to his shoulder again, trailing around his neck, breaking him out in gooseflesh with the pleasure of her touch upon his body. “My Lord M,” she whispered, planting her rosebud mouth on his breastbone, just over his heart. Her hand slid down his torso, over his hip, then--

He hissed in a sharp breath.

“My darling Lord M,” she whispered, “ _now_ have I expressed my wishes clearly enough?”

His head was spinning, his body on fire. He groaned as her breath misted his face.

“Ask me,” he whispered back. “Tell me what you want me to do to you. I would have the words from your lips…Ma’am…”

“I would have you make love to me, Lord M,” she whispered against his cheek. “I would have you thrust all of yourself deep inside of me, I would feel you there, moving so slowly, filling me with your beautiful c—”

He took her face in his hand and kissed her hard.

* * *

Victoria moaned shamelessly against his mouth as he kissed her. What a good game this was! And one she would most definitely have to remember if it provoked this response from him!

“God in heaven,” he swore in a slightly desperate tone as she found herself flat on her back again being kissed for all her life was worth. He groaned against her and the sound reverberated through her body, sending ripples through the heat between her legs.

At last. At long last. He was here. He was not a dream.

His lips traveled hotly down her throat, landed on her breast. She cried out, arching into him. Why did it feel even better than she remembered? Maybe she was just so ready…so agonizingly ready for him…

"Mmm," he said, cupping one in his hand and squeezing gently.  "If I remember correctly, these are fuller than they were before, Ma'am," he grinned at her, flicking her nipple with his tongue lightly.

"Yes.  They are.  I'm told...it's to be expected."

"Mmm, yes it is," he said waggling his eyebrows at her.

"I take it they still meet with your approval?"

"Always," he whispered.  "No matter how big or small, your breasts are the most beautiful in the world," He kissed first one and then the other. "Are they more sensitive?"  He asked, rubbing his thumbs across them lightly.

She moaned. 

"Oh, well.  In that case..."  He bent his head to her breasts again and lavished his full attention on them. 

"Oh God!  William!"  Her breasts _had_ felt heavier of late.  But also more sensitive.  They ached even sometimes, and made her thoroughly irritable.  Like she was turning slowly into a cow.  But in his hands...in his mouth...pain gave way to incandescent pleasure. 

Sometime later, his lips traveled over her abdomen and lower…

She put her own hands on his head, tried to raise it. This…wasn’t… _ohhh!_

All protest died.  Instantly.

She was awash on a sea of sensation. His dark head between her legs…his hot hands spreading her knees wide as he settled himself between them with a growl.  She buried her hands in his thick hair, winding it around her fingers, holding on for dear life.

Helplessly she thrashed beneath him. He was too good at this! Too good at finding that perfect place…knew her body too well...

“Let it come,” he whispered against her, causing her to moan. “Let me give you this gift…please come to me...”

She screamed and thrashed as her climax hit and hit hard. He purred against her, encouraging, enjoying…coaxing…

“Lord—M!” she finally squeaked, panting as he rose over her, green eyes dark, a self-satisfied, satyr-like gleam in their depths as he crawled up her body slowly, propping himself on his elbows, keeping his weight carefully off of her belly.

“Yes…Your Majesty?” he whispered, blinking his big eyes at her in mock innocence, the fans of his lashes catching the candlelight and glowing golden as a slow grin spread across his mouth.

She could smell herself on him.  It discomfited her.  Embarrassed her.  But he held her eyes, licking his lips slowly, twiddling his eyebrows at her. 

“For…shame!” She panted, her own mouth breaking into a smile.

"No.  No shame between us," he said.  "Only love.  And I love the taste of you."

“You are so wicked. And far too beautiful. You use your beauty against me.” She smoothed his errant curls away from his face. 

He huffed out a laugh. “Beauty indeed,” his smile widened. “I can see I have been absent far too long for you to so easily forget my wicked ways…Ma’am. And how fond I am of using all of my parts against you. Beautiful or no.”

“All of you is beautiful,” she said with a giggle. “And very accomplished, My Lord Melbourne.”

“Oh dear.  Surely I must not be.  I have displeased you already, for you never call me by my full title unless it is so.”

“Not necessarily,” she said, stroking a finger over his eyebrow. “I sometimes use it in awe of you.”

He kissed her. Slowly.

"Do you indeed?  Use it in awe of me?"

"Yes," she ran her fingers over his face as he kissed her.  “Make love to me,” she breathed. “I want to feel you…I need to feel you...all of you!”

He deepened the kiss, groaning. “My demanding little Queen,” he breathed. “Patience.”

“No! Now! I need you now!”

“Ohh God, how you do flatter me…” he purred against her cheek, positioning himself between her legs. “I can deny you nothing!” His beautiful eyes drank her in as she squirmed beneath him.

“Please…”

He growled against her cheek, ground his hips against hers.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Oh Victoria...You have no idea how beautiful you are to me. Never more so than when I am loving you.…”

And then suddenly—

_Ohh!!!_

Both of them cried out.

He moved once, deep and perfect!

“Yes!” He breathed as she cried out beneath him. “Don’t fight it! There is so much more for you tonight. Let it come. Let it all come!”

* * *

_Bloody, bloody hell!_

The strength of his climax blinded him for a moment and when his sight returned so did his conscience. Had he ridden her too hard? Too fast? Victoria liked it hard but…he stroked her abdomen thoughtfully, and slid his hand down into the soft thatch beneath her belly, between them both. She was so small, after all. And he a big brute by comparison. He would never forgive himself if…if…

“Are you all right?” He asked, breathing still ragged. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Or the babe?”

“No,” she said, reaching out a noodly arm to touch him.

He kissed her hand.

“I fear I got rather carried away.”

“That is the point, after all, is it not?” She smiled.

“Yes but…I feel I may have…that is…”

“Shhh! You did not,” she sat up, slurring. “Stop fretting my darling.”

“You turn me into a ravenous beast,” he said, scooping her up into his arms.

“And you make me into a wanton,” she said, kissing him. “I love you.”

“And I you.”

He rolled over, bringing her with him until she was laying on top of him, throwing his hand out to the side for balance, and started as he landed on something cold and round.

“What’s this?” He picked it up. It was a pillow. A dark pillow with…buttons?

“Ah. Yes. Well…that is…” Victoria sat up.

The room was darker now, the low candles and the dying fire making it difficult to see what he held. He examined it closely. It was velvet on one side, silk on the other, and something about it seemed very familiar.

“This is my favorite waistcoat!” He said, sitting up with a start. “Baines said you had ‘borrowed’ it. Well.  I suppose you had, at that!  I can see I won’t be wearing it again any time soon.”

His eyes met hers, and the sadness in them threatened to choke him. And he realized. Perhaps more than he had before.

“Oh, Victoria.”

“I couldn’t sleep you see and…and…I was so used to you. I couldn’t bear…I’ll b-buy you a new one…”

“Shhh,” he said, dropping his waistcoat pillow and taking her into his arms. “I don’t need another one. Oh my love…my poor poor love.” He was moved. Deeply moved by this sweet evidence of her grief for him. He held her and rocked her as she clung to him.

“It was my favorite too. It looked so handsome on you. I always think you look so fine in burgundy. For awhile, it still held your scent,” she whispered. “And then it faded…”

“My scent could not be all that pleasant after all, surely?” he quipped softly. “Oh my darling. I am so sorry.”

“I cannot live without you William. Had it not been for the babe I should have followed you.”

He redoubled his hold on her. “No!” He cried. “You mustn’t ever think such things again!”

“It is the truth. But I could not…not while I carried something so precious. The last part of you on this earth…”

He took her face in his and kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her some more.

“Thank God,” he breathed, holding her against him. “Had I returned to find you had done so I would have become Romeo to your Juliet my love.”

“I wanted to die! It hurt so, even to breathe!”

“Shhh! You were very brave. Very strong my love. Have I not always said so?”

“I did it for you. And our child. But oh I wanted you! No matter what world we were in I wanted to be with you.”

“I am here. I am here now, and we are together. Soon it will all be but a bad dream.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her again.

* * *

Sometime later, they lay sated again. Victoria snuggled back into his embrace, content beyond words to feel herself lying in his arms again.

“Do you think its a girl, or a boy?” He whispered, hands on her belly again.

“I do not know.”

“Well of course not, not with any certainty. But I find the mother always has a sense of these things.”

“I think it is a boy.”

He chuckled against her and kissed her shoulder.

“Does that please you?”

“I am pleased either way.”

“But all men wish for boys, do they not?”

“I am not so particular. A child of either sex is a wonder to me.”

“Parliament passed a special act. The babe is in line for succession, although they said if I were to marry royalty than any issue of that union would come first.”

He huffed a laugh behind her. “I can think of one or two ministers that must have had to hold their noses, not to mention their tongues, to sign off on such a bill.” He chuckled. “No doubt it was due to the affection they bear you, and the sympathy I suppose, at your deep grief, as well as relief that I was safely gone. But now that I am alive they’ll repeal it. But its nice to know the gesture was made, I suppose.”

“Why should they repeal? Its not as if I’m going to marry anyone else.”

“True. But you and I will probably be forced into a morganatic marriage now. And you will have to name a successor outside of our children. Your cousin George, perhaps.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Never!”

She felt him chuckling. “Poor old George,” he said teasingly, slapping her bottom lightly and then giving it a squeeze. “Why do you scorn him so, hmm? Apart from the fact that he’s a complete fool, I mean.”

“He called me ‘the midget’. That night at the costume ball.”

He gave a snort of indignation. “He never! Well. Now he has offended me too. Send him to the Tower,” he whispered into her neck as he covered it with kisses, making her giggle. “Before I challenged the blackguard to a duel. What a complete and utter booby!” he said, nibbling on her ear. “Mmmm his loss, though. My gain. Remind me to thank your halfwit cousin next time I see him.”

She laughed. “You had nothing to worry about anyway, Lord M. I should never have had George. But…that wasn’t because I didn’t hope for an English marriage.”

“Did you indeed?” he whispered.

“Yes. I wished for it.”

“Did you?” He said, pulling back a bit as her meaning struck home.

“I did. I wished it with all my heart…that you would marry me, and that I would be yours forever.”

He nuzzled her softly, his lips planting the lightest of kisses on the outside rim of her ear. “Well. Isn’t that interesting then.”

“What did you wish for? That first night we saw the star?”

“For you,” he whispered, wrapping her tightly in his arms. “That I could have you for my own wife, and to be by your side for always.”

She smiled. “What a lot of trouble we have caused with our reckless wishing, Lord M.”

She felt him smile against her hair. “Are you sorry for it already?”

“Never. I shall never be sorry for it.”

“There was another wish I made too.”

“What was that?”

“In the attic. I wished I could return home with you, as your husband, to have all of our lives to spend together, and children besides.”

She tightened her arms on his.

“Seemed you were right after all.”

“What?”

“About wishing on a star. It has all come true, hasn’t it?”

“Not the way I thought it would, for sure.”

“Nor I. Nevertheless…”

“I’ll never be sorry. Or argue with the result.”

“Nor shall I,” she said, turning in his arms to kiss him.  
* * *

The next morning, the sunlight poured in through Victoria's large picture windows.

Melbourne stirred, and smiled.

Looking down his body, Victoria lay curled against his chest, her long tresses all around her, laying over his chest and the arm he had wrapped around her shoulders. Her slight body a warm, soft, familiar pressure against his. Her breasts pressed against him, both of her legs wrapped around one of his so that he could feel the soft, damp heat of her center against his thigh, her rounded belly pressing against his hip. Her breath misted warmly against his skin.

He propped his head up behind his free arm and blinked hard to clear the sleep from his eyes so he could better take in the view.

Perfection.

Not just her beauty, which was blinding. But…the whole, bloody picture. He had held the whole of his new little family in his arms last night. Here they were, all together. For as far as he was concerned, the babe in her belly was here already. His child. Yes, it would always be the three of them now.

The three of them. Together. Forever. As a family. Everything he could have ever wanted in the world.

A sharp little bark and a flurry of soft, fluffy fur launched itself onto the bed, wagging madly.

Well. Okay. The _four_ of them.

“Hullo boy,” he whispered, patting Dash and receiving his doggie kisses with a good grace. “Do I take it you approve of me being here, then?”

Dash padded softly to where Victoria slept and snuffled her, wagging his tail.

“Yes, she’s fine. There’s a good boy. Checking on your mistress. See I told you I did not damage her,” he whispered. “Not jealous, I hope?”

As if in answer, Dash lay down on his other side and placed his furry head on William’s other side, still wagging, eyes on Victoria.

William huffed a laugh. _Now_ he held his whole family in his arms.

“Well. I suppose that answers that, then.”

“Mmm?” Victoria stirred.

At the sound of her voice, Dash lit up and climbed over William’s belly to get to her, which was not an entirely comfortable prospect for himself.

“Dash!” Victoria said happily, lifting a heavy hand to ruffle his ears. “Down boy.” She pulled her little dog off him and made a space for him behind her legs.

This would be his life. From now on. He would wake up each morning to this. Would he ever get used to it? Would it ever become mundane?

He didn’t want it to. He didn’t want to take advantage of one single day.

“There’s a good boy,” he soothed the little dog. “I know. It will probably take some getting used to, won’t it? You’ve had her all to yourself and now I’m here.”

He looked down to find a pair of sleepy blue eyes gazing up at him.

“Good morning,” he said simply. God how he adored her when she was so tousled. When her hair was loose and flowing. When her darling face looked so at peace, sated by his loving attentions.

“Good morning,” she replied, smiling, trailing her palm down his chest.

“Did you sleep well?” He brushed her hair out of her face.

“Better than I have in a long time,” she said, raising up, granting him a heavenly view of her breasts. “Though briefly.”

“Briefly?” He said with a chuckle. “Why was that, do you think?”

She crawled up his body, the blue of her eyes dark as the sea. The sight of her this way was so erotic, it took his breath away. He wanted to freeze time, to keep her this way for a long time where he could just gaze at her. Drink her in. Down to the last delicious drop.

No. On second thought, he was through wishing to do anything out of the ordinary with time, whatsoever.

“Well, because a certain young man in my bed commanded my attentions for most of the night,” she whispered before she kissed him.

“Really? I seem to recall it was the reverse. A certain beauteous young Queen commanded her humble, helpless little subject to perform certain acts upon her person…’without ceasing’, I believe, was her turn of phrase.”

“Mmm and did you?”

“To the best of my ability, Ma’am. May I ask if it was…satisfactory?”

“It was. Most satisfactory, Lord M.” She straddled him.

He sat up beneath her, pushing her down into his lap. Right where he wanted her. He kissed her again.

“Temptress…” he whispered against her mouth. “Surely the effects of my attentions have not worn off already?”

“No. But I am ravenous for more, nonetheless.” She raised up, and then lowered herself again. Slowly.

He sighed, feeling her wrap around him…take him in…

His eyes closed for a moment with the bliss of it.

“Hellfire and damnation! Oh…God, Victoria…”

She rode him so well. So bloody well. He put his hands on her hips, feeling them slide like silk against his palms. The picture of her! Her eyes held his, her little hands on his face, caressing him lightly, exploring. Loving.

She was sex goddess. She was lost little girl. She was Queen. She was Madonna. She was lover and she was friend. And all of her was his. He was her first. And now he would be her last. First…last…her one and only…forever.

Oh, how she undid him! This glorious creature…this angel…how could it be? He would never take her for granted. Never stop—worshiping her…wanting her…

“Oh my darling…” she breathed. “How I’ve missed you.”

He crushed his lips against hers, pulling her tight against him as she moved, kissing her frantically, feeling his control slip all too soon, despite his restored youth and vigor. She drove him wild. So wild…

She felt it too. It always excited her when he was close. And oh was he close! She rode him without mercy. Faster now. Breathless. Relentless. She wanted him to come.

“My Queen!” the words erupted from his throat, from his heart. “Bloody hell!”

She called his name. That was all it took.

He threw his head back and roared.

* * *

Victoria quivered in every muscle, wrapping her arms around him, gasping, face against his throat as they both crashed back to the bed.

A knocking startled her.

“Your Majesty!” More knocking. Loud and insistent. “Your Majesty, my door is locked!” She pulled at the handle and jiggled it with a frenzy.

“The Baroness?” He whispered, voice slurred. “Bollocks, I forgot she had her chamber so close!”

“Yes well, so did I,” Victoria giggled softly and placed a kiss on his neck, in the soft place just below his jaw, loving the prickle of his morning stubble against her lips. “I was rather overcome.”

“ _You_ were?” He huffed a laugh. “God above, Woman!”

She smiled broadly at the expression of rather dazed pleasure on his face.

“That good was it?”

“Ohh, you have no idea.”

She grinned at him. “Good.”

They stayed locked in each other’s gaze for some moments, before Lehzen’s knocking grew more insistent.

“I suppose I should have to ask her to move now,” Victoria sighed.

“Eventually it would probably be for the best, yes. But for now…better answer,” he said, slapping her bottom lightly. “Or she’ll break down the door to get to you.”

Victoria climbed out of bed with reluctance and padded to the door, grabbing her shift on the way by and sliding it on over her head and shoulders.

“Lehzen,” she called, trying to make her voice sound normal, although she supposed it was too late for that. “I’m all right. Go back to bed. Sorry we disturbed you.”

“ _We_ , Your Majesty?!  But who is in there with you?!”

She sighed and turned back to William, who’s amusement was now tinged with a bit of surprise.

“ _We?_ ” He echoed, smiling. “You shameless vixen.”

“Its not as if she doesn’t know I’m not alone. She heard us both, she had to have. And I should not have to remind _you_ that we are married!”

“Yes well. But no one else knows that…yet anyway.”

More banging.

“Your Majesty, please!”

“ENOUGH LEHZEN!” She practically shouted. “I am perfectly well! I will speak with you later!”

William smiled from the edge of the bed and sighed. “And so it begins.”

“I suppose it does,” she acquiesced. She crossed back to the bed and sat down next to him with a sigh. “She’ll be on her way to Mama now. And although she knows you are here, she will have to make a show of being concerned.”

He pulled her into his arms again and kissed her sweetly. “Never mind,” he whispered, cradling her face in his big hand and smiling into her eyes. “They cannot keep us apart now. Not with a marriage license and a babe on the way. I am afraid you are quite stuck with me now, Ma’am.” He said, planting a kiss on her nose.

“As you are with me, for I shall never let you go, no matter what they say.”

“Today will be difficult though. You and I must face the music, and submit ourselves for interrogation.”

“I know. Mama said Uncle Leopold would be waiting for us this morning. No doubt he’s camped outside the door at this moment.”

“Well. Perhaps not. If your uncle has one redeeming quality, it is that he is not an early bird, no matter how juicy the worm he spies within his grasp.”

“That is certainly true. We have a few hours yet.”

“Which is just as well. It will give me time to make my exodus. Even if we are married and your mother and the Baroness Lehzen are aware of my whereabouts, it would be bad form to be discovered here, at least until we get everything sorted. Besides I need to make a trip to Dover House today to meet my tailor. None of my blasted clothes fit anymore, and I do not wish to face the firing squad here today held up with any more damned pins.”

Victoria whined, nestled into his neck. “Must you go?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” he whispered. “Courage, my darling. It’s nearly over now.”

She looked up to find him smiling into her eyes. She brushed his hair back from his face softly. “You will be back soon?”

“As soon as I can,” he said, caressing her cheek. “Until then, you do not have to engage with them. Might I suggest you dress as normal, and then stay to your rooms? That way they cannot waylay you, as I am sure your uncle wishes to do. Plead a headache or fatigue due to the babe. They cannot argue with that. Then I’ll be back as soon as may be, and we will face them. Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming down to it, Readers! Another chapter or two will complete their journey. As always I look forward to your comments. :)


	48. Chapter 48--With a Little Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William and Victoria face the music. But what will be the result of this showdown?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “With a little luck, we can help it out.  
> We can make this whole damn thing work out.  
> With a little love, we can lay it down.  
> Can't you feel the town exploding?
> 
> There is no end to what we can do together.  
> There is no end, there is no end.  
> The willow turns his back on inclement weather;  
> And if he can do it, we can do it,  
> Just me and you,
> 
> And a little luck, we can clear it up.  
> We can bring it in for a landing,  
> With a little luck, we can turn it on.  
> There can be no misunderstanding.
> 
> There is no end to what we can do together.  
> There is no end, there is no end.  
> The willow turns his back on inclement weather;  
> We can do it, just me and you.
> 
> With a little push, we could set it off.  
> We can send it rocketing skywards.  
> With a little love, we could shake it up.  
> Don't you feel the comet exploding?
> 
> With a little luck…”  
> (Paul McCartney and Wings, 1978)

Chapter 48—With a Little Luck

 

William Lamb, Viscount Lord Melbourne, Second of that name, arrived back at Buckingham Palace about mid-morning, feeling tailored, smart and far more like himself than he had in sometime. He alighted from his carriage, fussing a bit with his cuffs.

How good it felt to be wearing nineteenth century clothes again! The Colonel Brandon costume he’d worn to Elizabeth’s ball had been all very well, but had lacked the authenticity of fit and fabric, and indeed feel, of his own era. And yesterday’s pinned clothes had felt precarious at best, but at least had held together well enough under the circumstances.

But now his suit fit, and with a delightfully noticeable lack of pins. And his tailor, once he’d gotten over the twin shocks of him being not only returned from the dead but also younger, had gotten to work straight away on the rest of his London wardrobe. Then he’d sent word on to Baines at Brocket to send up the rest of his clothes to town for his tailor to make the necessary adjustments to them as well.

And then he’d been very bold, and ordered a whole new couple of suits, and indeed a variety of waistcoats-- including one in burgundy red velvet with gold buttons.

God, it felt good to have his own money again! To have his own place in the world! And to be sure of it. Because nothing—nothing and no one—would stand between him and Victoria now. No force on this earth could make him leave her. So this battle was, in his mind, merely a necessary formality. The war had already been won.

Indeed he’d also written to his sister Emily, to inform her of his return and to alert her to expect to receive some very startling and joyous tidings about himself very soon. In which, of course, he hinted strongly that she also might wish to order some rather special attire and prepare herself, and her husband presumably, for a very joyous occasion in the near future. And he'd written to his brother Frederick as well, informing him of nearly the same.

Indeed, as he sprinted up the palace steps two at a time, he reflected he had probably never felt so good in the whole course of his life. Not only was he younger, trimmer and fitter, and also having had all of his needs attended to very thoroughly and delightfully—he was to be a father again! And husband, to the most remarkable woman he had ever known.

A child! They had a child between them! Could there be anything better in life than to have the woman whom he loved more than life itself bear his children? William felt he had been handed his entire life over again. And he supposed he had been, at that. What man ever was so blessed, and what had he possibly ever done to deserve such incandescent joy? This time, he would not fail them. This time, he would fight tooth and nail to protect them, to secure their safety and happiness. To be everything his woman could want in a husband, and everything he could possibly be as a father to his child. Yes, the future seemed brighter than he had ever presumed it could be.

All that remained was to settle the business this morning with her family. It was no small task, he owned, but in the grand scheme of things, this would be but a small obstacle. The final obstacle between his and Victoria’s everlasting happiness.

He was greeted by Penge at the door with a bow and received. At least he did not have to be sponsored into the palace this time. He waited in a receiving parlor before being ushered into the library, where, he could hear through the door, the reception committee had already been assembled.

“Is Her Majesty within?” He inquired of Penge. He did not detect her voice.

“Her Majesty is currently in her own apartments, My Lord. She wished to be alerted as soon as you arrived.”

“Please. Alert her then.”

“With all due respect, I had anticipated your instructions, My Lord. The message has already been dispatched.”

“Thank you,” he said with a smile. “I am sure Her Majesty will appreciate your efficiency as much as I do.”

Penge made him a regal bow and then opened the door and announced him.

Reception committee, indeed.

In fact, he imagined most inquisition victims might have been better received by their accusers than he himself was at the moment. Yes, he was very glad he had arrived here well-armed this morning and ready to do battle.

The dour faces of King Leopold and Sir John Conroy, the tear-stained cheeks of the Duchess of Kent, and the stern expressions of Sir Robert Peel and the Duke of Wellington, along with the added bonus of the increasingly incredulous Duke of Cumberland all greeted him.

“Lord Melbourne! So kind of you to join us this morning.” King Leopold opened the proceedings. “Pray, do have a seat.”

 _‘Prey’ indeed,_ he thought with wry amusement, as he looked at the one lonely chair indicated, situated before the grim-faced tribunal.

“Ah, forgive me, but I prefer to stand.”

Leopold frowned at this.

 _Yes,_ he thought, _tactics_. Leopold was a master of manipulation. Nothing like towering physically over someone to increase their anxiety and your own power. And every man in the room was currently standing.

 _No,_ he thought as he held Leopold’s eyes, _you will have to work harder than that if you want to intimidate me._

“My niece, unfortunately, is feeling unwell this morning. You I believe, of all people, would surely understand why she cannot join us.” Leopold said pointedly.

“Ah,” he replied, simply. “Well perhaps then we should _all_ be considerate to Her Majesty’s indisposition, and wait until she is feeling stronger.”

Leopold breathed in sharply. Conroy seemed to be gnashing his teeth. Cumberland huffed indignantly, but the Duchess bore him a slight, appreciative smile. Both Wellington and Peel exchanged amused glances and coughed into their fists.

Strike one to himself, he thought, and arched an eyebrow.

“No My Lord, I very much fear that will not be possible. There are some matters to be settled here which cannot wait.”

“Ah…forgive me but…may I ask why the King of _Belgium_ is deciding which matters are important or unimportant to be discussed within the Queen of England’s hearing? Within her own country, and presumably, about things that affect her directly…over which the King of Belgium has no…jurisdiction?”

Perhaps he had overstepped just a bit, he thought. But watching Leopold squirm and endeavor to hold back his anger as well as formulate a clever response was just too amusing.

“The King of Belgium, My Lord, is not the only one who is interested in these matters,” said Cumberland sanctimoniously. “The members of your own government, you see, are present as well.” He indicated Wellington and Peel. “So Her Majesty’s presence here is not entirely…necessary. As I believe this unpleasant business will be concluded quickly enough and without having to disturb her repose.”

“The Queen of England, My Lord, is my niece. I speak not as the King of Belgium primarily, but as the leading male of her family. And in the absence of the Duke of Kent, I speak for her father.”

“As are we _all_ ,” Cumberland put in. “I of course, am her uncle. And Conroy here has acted as co-guardian of her during the whole of her childhood. We are all three indispensable when it comes to these matters of… _family honor_.”

“Indeed we are, Sir,” put in Conroy, forked tongue sliding between his teeth. Always the man had reminded William of a viper. Even his voice came out in a hiss.

“Ah. Her three ‘fathers’,” he nodded. “Right.”

“Please allow me to speak frankly, My Lord, but you have no right to question our authority when it comes to my niece, Victoria. It is not we who are on trial here. It is for you to stand and give an account for your own grievous misconduct towards my niece, your own Queen, and the abuses of your power that you used to facilitate such conduct. Conduct that is traitorous to your own Queen and country.”

“Really?” He said, nodding with a raise of his eyebrows. “So…this is not a visit, or a meeting, or even a discussion we are having here. It is a _trial_? If I am to be put on _trial_ , Your Majesty, why have I not been formally charged? Or arrested? Or given the right to legal counsel? If my charges are as grievous as you indicate, surely I am allowed due process according to the laws of _this_ land.”

“Enough of this!” Leopold stamped his foot. “Lord Melbourne, your flippant attitude and focus upon trivialities is wholly inappropriate. I do not believe you fully comprehend the seriousness of your position.”

“Indeed not, for I am only recently informed I am supposedly on _trial_ , and I’ve not even been served a _charge_!”

“And if it was in _my_ jurisdiction you would have been!”

“Ah. But I am not. With all due respect, I am not your subject. And this is not your country. And if this is such a serious situation—that you have no formal charges, or presumably evidence to put before me—then why is it being conducted behind Her Majesty’s back?” He turned to Peel. “Sir Robert, am I to understand I stand accused of breaking English law? Does the Privy Council and Parliament back the King of _Belgium_ , and these Lords assembled here, as acting head of this country, simply because the Queen is feeling unwell this morning, and presumably has not even been alerted to the existence of this meeting? Do they, in fact, support the brushing aside of Her Majesty the Queen, the Constitution, and due process of law with regards to my case-- _and_ with regards of her right to _rule_ \--on the grounds of their being relations?”

“No Sir, they do not.” Sir Robert Peel answered loudly and firmly. “The King of Belgium is out of line to suppose it.” He turned to Leopold, his expression cold. “Your Majesty, with _respect_ , I must side with Lord Melbourne. This is not by any means a _trial_. It is nothing more than an unofficial, _family_ discussion, without legal bearing of any kind. Lord Melbourne is not ‘standing accused’ of any crime against the laws of England, or of Her Majesty. And I did not answer your invitation to be present this morning to lend any kind of credibility, or weight of any official nature, to any of your _family_ complaints against Lord Melbourne! Kindly rephrase the nature of your comments, Your Majesty, or I shall have to bring a close to this discussion by official means, as Prime Minister and leader of the Privy Council!”

“Here, here!” Chimed in the Duke of Wellington.

Just then the door opened.

“Her Majesty, the Queen!”

Victoria strode in, looking regal and refreshed. She struck her most imperial pose, and gazed down her nose at the gathered assembly.

“That will not be necessary, Sir Robert,” she said, crossing the room and sliding her arm through William’s own. “I shall bring a close to them myself.” She turned a frosty glare to the King of Belgium. “What is the meaning of this, Uncle!”

Leopold by now, was so angry his face was diffused with red, and his chest pumping like a bellows with his indignation. Clearly, William observed, he had not expected such resistance. Nor perhaps Victoria’s presence here this morning. The same could be said for Conroy and Cumberland both, who were exchanging venomous glances over the Duchess’s head, where she sat seated in a chair opposite them, smiling at her daughter.

“Victoria, I wish to protest,” Leopold choked out. “Both your former and current Prime Ministers have treated me with the utmost disrespect!”

“Then clearly you have earned it.” She said quietly. “Perhaps you are so displeased with England that you should wish to retire to your own country? Traveling and visiting relatives is all very well, but once in awhile, one does need to return to one’s own subjects. Particularly if one is so clearly frustrated by one’s own lack of power in someone else’s country!”

“This will not work!” Leopold said, taking a few strides forward. “I know what you are both trying to do, and I will not have it! You are muddying the waters and attempting to change the subject. I will not be so manipulated. This man has wronged you,” he said pointing a finger at William. “This man has abused his former position as your Prime Minister to worm his way into your affections and has destroyed your virtue! And now he is attempting to seize power!”

At this, William huffed a laugh. He coughed and manfully tried to swallow it, but the initial impulse was just too much. Victoria looked up at him, amusement in her blue eyes.

“Indeed Uncle,” she said, failing to keep the laugh out of her own voice, “I can heartily reassure you that is not the case. No one on the face of the earth could be less desirous of ‘seizing power’ than Lord Melbourne. As anyone who truly knows him will attest. Power has always been much more of an imposition on him than it has been something he has actively sought. Would you not agree, Duke?” She turned to address Wellington.

“I would have to say that is accurate, Ma’am. Your Majesty, I have had a long association with Lord Melbourne. And despite the fact that we often found ourselves on the opposite side of many political arguments and ideologies, I have a great deal of respect for him on a personal level. Indeed, he was reluctant both times to accept the office of Prime Minister when he was offered it, and could only be convinced by the voices of his fellow ministers to accept, on the grounds of doing service to his country. Forgive me, Melbourne, but the term ‘ambitious’ could never be applied to you, my dear fellow, without a great degree of…ironic intention.”

William shrugged. “I would have to agree. Government is a tiresome business. And a damned bore at that. I am glad to be out of it.”

“You seemed enthusiastic enough when shooting down my party,” Peel remarked with a wry smile. “But I too have to agree. It is common knowledge in government circles, Your Majesty, that Lord Melbourne served reluctantly, and only at the behest of others.”

“Although,” remarked the Duke of Cumberland. “It was also commented upon that when my niece took the throne, your opinion of your profession…improved remarkably.”

“Indeed it was, Your Grace,” chimed in Conroy. “Almost overnight.”

“I wonder why that was, My Lord?” continued Cumberland.

“I have no idea,” William said pointedly, smiling down at Victoria, who smiled up into his eyes. “I wonder what could have _possibly_ sparked such a change in myself.”

“Naturally,” said the Duchess of Kent, smiling at her daughter. “It was love.”

William felt himself smile more broadly. “Yes. It was,” he said softly.

“Oh. Of _course_ it was,” The Duke of Cumberland chuckled. “It would not have been anything like…sniffing out an opportunity.”

“Indeed Sir,” Conroy chuckled. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Yes of _course_ ,” Leopold said smugly. “What man would not have ‘fallen in _love_ ’ with the most eligible, _rich_ and _powerful_ woman in all of _Europe_? Of course it was love. How _foolish_ of me to have supposed otherwise.”

Conroy snickered.

At that last provocation, he felt Victoria bristle.

“How very interesting a reaction,” she said to the room at large. “Particularly from you, Sir John. How interesting you should take such a cynical view. I have heard it said before that we often project onto others our own motives, and that by doing so we reveal far more about ourselves in the attempt to discredit others than we do the person we are endeavoring to slander. Have you not always professed to care for my mother? It is interesting how quickly you assign Lord Melbourne such a devious motive!”

“Drina!” her mother said, eyes pleading.

“It is precisely because I do care for your mother that I can take such a view,” Conroy said glibly.

It was William’s turn to snort derisively.

“Yes,” Leopold’s eyes flashed at William, and for a moment, William was startled to find that he and the King of Belgium actually agreed upon something. “Well. Whatever his motive was, the result has certainly been in his favor. He becomes the young Queen’s private secretary and in fact becomes her tutor. Indeed, they soon become inseparable. One wonders how far these…lessons…progressed before your disappearance?”

“Uncle! How dare you!” Victoria was enraged.

“Leopold!” Said the Duchess of Kent.

“Well, look at the result! The Queen is now with child— _Melbourne’s_ child!” Leopold said suddenly. “How long was it going on, Melbourne?”

“Indeed, Sir!” cried Conroy. “Almost instantly, his hold over the Queen was absolute. She became hysterical—unreasonable—a whig puppet, within mere days of taking the throne! He has used her for his own party’s gain, and for his own personal gratification and now, advancement! THIS is what comes of letting her meet with her advisers alone! Had we been allowed to protect her, none of this would have happened! And you had the gall to try and implicate me with Flora Hastings! Speaking of projecting onto others…now we know why!”

“Sir John, please!” the Duchess said.

“I’m sorry that the truth is upsetting to you, my dear Duchess, but it must be spoken! Melbourne had no business being Prime Minister in any case, so besmirched was his character ever before Drina came to the throne. This man has a long history of debauching women. Married or single. His arrogance, and moral depravity have no bottom. One can hardly wonder at it, considering his upbringing.”

“My upbringing, Sir? What about my upbringing?” William sprang forward, his patience at an end. Let the snake mention something about his mother and…

“Not to mention his wife’s desertion for that…poet,” Conroy’s smile was sick. “What a fascinating book she did write, nevertheless. I found it…riveting.”

“Now steady on!” cried Peel. “There’s no call for this!”

“Agreed,” said Wellington. “We are not here to dredge up the past or revisit old wrongs. Nor are we here to slander Lord Melbourne!”

“Since when is truth ‘slander’?” Conroy hissed.

He jerked forward, the need to smash Conroy’s face in a visceral thing. But Victoria’s eyes pleaded. With superhuman effort he restrained himself, and schooled his features into a mask of urbane amusement.

“Speaking of upbringing, I have many questions to ask you, Sir John, about the way you chose to raise up the future Queen of England. The Kensington System, of which you were always so proud, seems to have left many deficiencies in the Queen’s knowledge and experience which should never have been so. Why did you feel it necessary to completely isolate a child—even from others her own age--who would need to know so much more about the world than the average girl? Unless of course, you intended to undermine instead of build her confidence, and leave her utterly dependent upon yourself, and the Duchess of course, for well into her reign. Seems to me if there’s anyone here who’s…hungry…for power, it would be you.”

“How dare you, Sir! How dare you!” The snake had opened its hood and was practically vibrating with outrage.

“Fortunately for her and the country, I was on hand to assist. Otherwise we all might be suffering under the oppressive yolk of the Kensington System at this very moment.”

“I see. And I suppose this is your solution to her…being ignorant of the world, is it? Where she spent her tutelage under you--on her back, as you make the Queen of England into your personal whore!”

The combined voices of Peel and Wellington broke like thunder over the room, along with a wail from the Duchess of Kent.

“Now just a minute!--”

“--Wholly out of line!”

“—Lord Melbourne would never!—”

“--Completely uncalled for!--”

“--I will not stand by while you insult the Queen of England, Sir!--”

“—Nor I! The Privy Council and Parliament will not abide this!—”

“—You will show the proper respect, or be called to account!--”

“—Slanderous!—”

“—Treasonous!—”

“—You will apologize immediately!—”

“—Sir John please!” Cried the tortured, tearful voice of the Duchess.

William felt himself snap at the accusation. That was it. He took two steps towards the snake and would have happily rammed his fist into its face, when Victoria’s voice cut through the outrage of the room and the red haze that had descended over his vision.

“ENOUGH! Enough of this! Sir John, you have insulted Lord Melbourne—and I--for the last time! You may leave us! Immediately!” Victoria said.

Conroy took a step back and bowed stiffly, smirking derisively as he did so, and left the room with a bang of the door. Damn the man, could he not even leave the room respectfully?

Leopold and Cumberland were murmuring over the Duchess, who looked as if she felt faint and continued sniffling into her lacy handkerchief.

Victoria glared around the room. “I will hear no more of this! Uncles, you will both be silent, or you may leave us as well!” Victoria said. “Lord Melbourne’s character is _not_ on trial here! Nor is the nature of our relationship, or how it came into being! All you need concern yourselves with is the fact that Lord Melbourne and I are already married. That the child I carry is his, conceived within wedlock! And that a public ceremony will take place as soon as it can be arranged, so that there can no longer be any doubt about the legitimacy of our child or our marriage!”

William swallowed uncomfortably at that. Technically speaking, by the time the child was conceived they could have been married, however…well. They were married now anyway, at least, so the claim still could be made. And as to the rest of it…well there were some things that were nobody’s business, outside the two of them, and God.

His two remaining adversaries gasped for air like landed fishes at this proclamation, as they attempted to gather their wits again in response. Peel and Wellington exchanged uncomfortable, worried glances. And the Duchess of Kent continued to sniffle.

“This is outrageous! Outrageous I say!” Said the Duke of Cumberland at last. “A second generation, jumped up Viscount cannot marry the Queen of England! She might as well marry her footman!”

William felt himself stiffen again, but Victoria’s hands on his arm were soothing. He looked down to find her eyes on him, shining with love and understanding.

“Now! Now do you see what I was talking about! He has kidnapped the Queen of England and eloped with her! He dishonored my niece, and now she is with child, he expects to marry her!”

“HE DID NOT KIDNAP ME! How dare you suggest such a wicked thing, Uncle! And we are married already!”

“Such behavior! Observe…observe her hysteria at a mere comment! Her complete lack of judgment or morality…or even shame at admitting it, openly! My father was just the same! Would fly off the handle at no good reason, on the drop of a hat! Clearly she is not fit to rule!” cried the Duke of Cumberland.

“I say once and for all, I did not kidnap Her Majesty! Both of us were, in a sense, kidnapped—stolen away from our rightful places--but independently of each other. It is true, we found ourselves reunited later in the most extraordinary circumstances. But I assure you, I did not run away with her! How could I possibly have completed such a feat! I am sure the palace guards were questioned thoroughly, were they not?”

“They were, Sir,” said Sir Robert Peel. “As were all the servants inside and out, both here and at Dover House.”

“And what was the verdict?”

Sir Robert shook his head. “That no guard had seen anyone coming or going from the palace or from Dover House. That no servant here or there had seen either of them depart. There were no horses missing or having been ridden in either place. All swore that they had seen yourself enter your library at Dover House, and Her Majesty her chambers here at the palace, as usual for the night. No sign of intrusion or escape. No sign of any movement whatsoever. It was as if you had both simply vanished.”

“Because that is precisely what happened.”

The Duke of Cumberland snorted derisively. “You expect us to believe such a wild tale? Perhaps the Queen’s madness is catching!”

“Indeed so,” said Leopold, who was staring holes into William as if somehow by doing so William would betray himself as a liar and a cad.

William rubbed a hand down his face. “What possible motive could I have to lie to you? Does not the evidence at hand bear out my story? Does not that say something as to at least its plausibility! I know how it sounds! I lived it! But as sure as I am standing here before you, as you see transformed, something supernatural happened that night to us both. Separately. And we were both…swept away.”

“Where, exactly, were you ‘swept’ to, Lord Melbourne?” Said Leopold patronizingly. “By this…supernatural…force?”

“Indeed! A shared delusion…” put in the Duke of Cumberland.

“You Majesty. Your Grace. Look at me! Really look! Am I the same man who was here before? I am, and yet I am not! I am myself, but…younger! How do YOU explain such a thing? Duke?” He turned to Wellington. “Am I not the same man? You have known me longer than any else here.”

“Yes,” Wellington said, without hesitation. “You are. You are William Lamb as I first knew you. Many, many years ago. It is most…uncanny. But there is no question.”

“Then how do you explain this? I cannot! Can either of you? Yet here I am. Your eyes tell you I am here. Wellington tells you I am myself. You cannot deny that truth of that! And yet it is a mystery, is it not?”

Leopold began to soften. “I must admit, Lord Melbourne, that I cannot account for it, as you say. It defies all that is known, and I have never seen the like. I cannot deny, My Lord, that there is mystery there as you claim.”

“So. That point at least we have established. Is it so much a stretch then, to admit that if _this_ has occurred,” he pointed to his face, “that what _else_ I am telling you just might have occurred also?”

Leopold sighed, and looked at Cumberland. Cumberland shook his head, but said nothing, turning his face to look out of the window as if rejecting it all.

“Leopold,” said the Duchess softly. “Please. I think it would be to the benefit of all if we should listen to Lord Melbourne’s account, with an open mind.”

Leopold looked at his sister thoughtfully.

“If I might also make a suggestion,” the Duke of Wellington said to William, “upon the question of evidence--may I request that you share with the present company the evidence you presented me with last night?”

“Of course,” William said, “I have brought the document with me today in anticipation that such a thing might be necessary.”

He enjoyed the vision of Leopold, paling visibly at this. Observing that the room had settled and was now prepared to listen, William led Victoria to the chair that had been set aside for his own inquisition, and then positioned himself behind it.

Victoria in turn, took the opportunity to order drinks for the assembly. Once these were provided and all had been served, and various decanters placed strategically around the room with ready refreshment, they began at last.

“Well,” William said, scratching one eyebrow thoughtfully, “I suppose I will begin with the gathered assembly the way I did with the Duke of Wellington last evening. With this,” he said, taking the marriage license out of his inner coat pocket. “Our marriage license. If…anyone present would care to examine it.”

“ _I_ would,” said Leopold quickly, striding forward with his hand out, his greedy little ferret-like eyes alight with the arrogant anticipation of finding its fatal flaw. “If you _please_ , My Lord Melbourne.” The nod of his head was mocking.

William handed the document to him politely. He met Victoria’s nervous eyes with a look he hoped bespoke confidence as well as wry amusement. He watched with a sense of detachment the almost comical figure of the King of Belgium, taking in the names, signatures, and then the date.

He folded the parchment angrily and stood slowly.

“What is the meaning of this?” Leopold demanded, eyes flashing with indignation.

“It is a marriage contract, naturally. Oh…I’m sorry…forgive me…it is mostly in Latin. Did…Your Majesty need assistance in translation?”

“Lord Melbourne, again, I do not think you realize the serious nature of this conversation. Nor do I think you appreciate the gravity of this situation, nor indeed, whom you are speaking to, else you would speak in more respectful tones.”

“Respectful? I was not aware I was being in any way…disrespectful, Your Majesty.” William blinked at him innocently and smiled.

“You, My Lord, are mocking me. You are mocking everyone in this room with this OUTRAGEOUS document!” He slammed his hand down on top of it. “If you have no _valid_ evidence of a marriage between you and my niece, than I am forced to conclude that there has been no marriage between you at all, and you have debauched my niece, and brought her to disgrace and ruin by fornicating with her out of wedlock, then being so careless as to get her with child!”

“Pardon me, Your Majesty, but may I inquire what about this document invalidates its authenticity in your mind? Are those not our signatures?”

“This is the hand of my niece certainly, but I am unfamiliar with yours.”

“It is Lord Melbourne’s hand, Your Majesty, which is easily verifiable when set next to other official documents if you would be so inclined to put it to the test,” put in the Duke of Wellington.

“Then would either of you care to tell me why you have signed a marriage contract under assumed names?”

“I assumed nothing. My name is William Lamb. And that is what is on the marriage contract.”

“But it says ‘William Lamb, the Earl of Leicester.’” Leopold said, one eyebrow cocked as if at a naughty schoolboy.

“Yes, well. I was the Earl of Leicester, briefly. Though I am reasonably certain it was rescinded later, that was the title I bore when we were married.”

“Yes I see…to the Viscountess Alexandrina of Prussia.” Leopold looked up wryly. “Viscountess indeed! You have the _impudence_ to create for yourself an Earldom, while relegating my niece to the rank of VISCOUNTESS? A rank so far beneath her it is an insult!” He stomped his foot imperiously.

“Yes, well,” he scratched the back of his neck and met Victoria’s eyes…which was a mistake. Because it caused him to smile at the laughter he saw dancing there. “I do realize there is some discrepancy in rank…however, under the circumstances we were in at the time, it was the best I could do to lend our background any degree of verisimilitude. And I myself did not start our adventure with any rank at all. I was…made…an earl.”

“Made an earl? By whom?”

“Might I…assist this inquiry, Your Majesty, by calling your attention to the date on the document,” put in Wellington, with an amused glance at William.

“I do not require you to call attention to the date, Your Grace, I have seen it.” Leopold’s eyes narrowed on William. “Lord Melbourne. What I do require is an _explanation_ for this _ridiculous_ paper you have handed me. As well as an explanation of your true whereabouts during your disappearance with my niece, and the _true_ evidence of any marriage between you.”

William sighed, met the Duke of Wellington’s eyes.

“Your Highness, the paper is authentic. We were married. In the year 1564. That is where we were ‘swept’ to, the night of our mutual disappearance. Victoria and I found ourselves quite without warning in the middle of a London street during the reign of Queen Elizabeth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more of this discussion to come in the next chapter. Stay tuned! Hoping to update with that very soon. 
> 
> As always I welcome and love your comments!


	49. Chapter 49--Only Waiting for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and William finish relaying the tale of their adventures to Victoria's relatives. What will be the outcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “…And I cannot escape the over-whelming feeling  
> Destiny has taken us in hand  
> And nothing that we do is gonna change  
> The way this love affair is never gonna end
> 
> And I know it's hard getting used to the idea  
> That your lover wants to be your best friend  
> With a showing of affection and a measure of romance  
> This is really only waiting for you.
> 
> Really only waiting for you  
> What do you suppose that we can do?  
> Anything whatever that you want to last forever  
> Really only waiting for you…
> 
> I've been living by myself, I do not want for someone else,  
> At least that's what I liked to say  
> And it was working till the other day I met you,  
> And I fell in love from twenty yards away.
> 
> I've got one last truly great love left in my life  
> And my heart is tellin' me it might be you.  
> So forget your disappointments, I'll forget about my past  
> I was really only waiting for you.
> 
> Really only waiting for you.  
> What do you suppose that we can do?  
> Anything whatever that you want to last forever  
> Really only waiting for you…”  
> (Crosby, Stills & Nash, 1994).

Chapter 49—Only Waiting for You

 

“This tale you have told is preposterous! Absolute poppycock!” huffed her uncle Leopold when he had finished speaking.

William lifted his hands in that helpless gesture she found so endearing.

“It is the truth, Your Majesty.”

“I, My Lord, and these other esteemed gentlemen here present, are men of reason.  You seriously expect us to believe that you and my niece were carried back in time?”

“There is a document in front of you, Uncle," Victoria said in a patient, yet imperious voice that she hoped made it clear it was her Uncle who was being the most tiresome.  "A marriage license that bears our signatures in the year 1564. What more do you need?”

"What indeed," said Leopold with a chuckle.  "Because of course, documents are _never_ forged, or falsified."

“Might I make a suggestion?” Asked her Uncle Cumberland.

“Certainly, Uncle.” Victoria replied, graciously gazing down her nose at him.

“If Lord Melbourne was made into the Earl of Leicester by Queen Elizabeth herself—would there not be…a record…of this occurrence somewhere? In a history book, perchance?  Such things are usually put down into official records and we are in a library, after all.  Perhaps if we could uncover some...documentation...to support your claims, we could put this whole troublesome business to rest, once-” he looked pointedly at William, "--and for _all_."

“A very good suggestion, Your Grace,” said Robert Peel, and began to search the shelves along with Wellington.  Victoria felt William's hand on her shoulder, squeezing briefly in support.  One way or another, they were in this together. 

Presently, the Iron Duke had procured a volume and was thumbing through it. He crossed over to Peel, pointing at a passage.

“Well if that don’t beat all!” Peel exclaimed, and turned back to the company. “Your Grace, may I complement you on the very excellent suggestion,” he said with a smile. “A record does in fact exist, right here!”

"WHAT?" Exclaimed her Uncle Cumberland, and Victoria stifled a giggle at his complete shock.  He looked as if he might fall down.

Leopold snatched the volume from Peel in disbelief, as Peel pointed at the relevant section. Leopold flipped the cover over as if to assure himself of the title, examined the page and the date of publication, and finally, reluctantly, began to read.

“ _The first Earl of Leicester so named by Elizabeth of England was not in fact Robert Dudley,_ ” he read, “ _but one William Lamb, a favourite of the Queen_ _who had appeared before her from obscurity in 1564, begging the Queen’s assistance for his cousin, the Viscountess Alexandrina of Prussia, who had fallen upon hard times._ ” He paused, and arched an eyebrow at William. “Cousin indeed,” he sniffed. Then resumed reading.

“ _The viscountess was beauteous, if small of stature, and the story of her plight did indeed provoke the Queen’s sympathy, but it is generally accepted that it was due to Lamb himself that Elizabeth was moved to act on her behalf. Both were invited to Court, where the viscountess was made lady-in-waiting, while the middle-aged Lamb became the Queen’s favourite courtier almost overnight, and for a time even eclipsed Robert Dudley in the Queen’s esteem. Lamb, whose green eyes were much remarked upon, was said to be extraordinarily handsome and sharp of wit, and the Queen became so infatuated with him that she made him Earl of Leicester."_  Leopold swore in German and dropped the book in disgust.  

Victoria looked up to see William smiling down at her, and across at her mother who was smiling at her too.  Her two uncles had locked eyes and were grim-faced.

"Is there any more?"  The Duchess asked in her quiet way. 

"Yes, Ma'am, there is," said Robert Peel in a slightly triumphant voice, and he resumed the reading:

> “ _Not long after, the Queen announced the betrothal of the Viscountess Alexandrina to Sir Robert Dudley, Earl of Warwick, her former favourite. Lamb himself argued with the Queen to recant her decision, for which she, in a great rage, denied, possibly out of jealousy for Lamb’s affections. It is widely assumed that Lamb and the viscountess fled together from the palace that very night, as neither was ever seen again. When searching for the couple in England yielded no results, the Queen sent ambassadors to Prussia, who could find no trace of a Viscountess Alexandrina meeting the young woman’s description. It was therefore determined that the two must have been spies for Mary, Queen of Scots, and had returned to Scotland upon leaving the palace._
> 
> “ _Some months later, the Queen rescinded the ranks and lands bequeathed to Lamb, and bestowed them instead upon Robert Dudley, and the Earldom of Warwick was transferred to his brother, Ambrose Dudley. Though it is said the Queen never forgot William Lamb, and was wont at times to mention that she was glad she had not found him, for being obliged to issue his death warrant would have been more than she could bear._ ”

When Robert Peel finished reading, he handed the volume to the Duke of Wellington, who read it himself before passing it to Uncle Cumberland, who read it and with an oath of his own in English, handed it to the Duchess of Kent, who viewed it with amusement before passing it to her brother.  Uncle Leopold refused it, pursing his lips as he was wont to do when considering something. He picked up the marriage license again and read it, muttering under his breath.

"Your Majesty,” William said softly, “suspend your disbelief for one moment. And examine the evidence. You have heard the circumstances of our disappearances. You have before you both a written historical account and a marriage license from the same year. And then look at me…how I am so changed. You will find that all the pieces _fit_.”

“But what you are suggesting is impossible! Impossible!” He threw his hands up with the pronouncement.

“And yet it is all true, Uncle.” Victoria said softly. “And if it had not been for Lord Melbourne, I would still be there. Married to Sir Robert Dudley and locked away in his castle. Perhaps never coming home again. It was only through our escape from Elizabeth’s court, and our marriage, that enabled me to return home at all. Lord Melbourne stood by me. He protected me. He guarded me and defended me against Dudley and Elizabeth both. Because he counted himself duty bound to return me home. Or at least die at my side. He tried everything,” she said affectionately, smiling at him softly, taking his hand in hers. “Every possible outcome. But once the Queen had declared me betrothed, the only way he could protect me from Dudley was to marry me himself, and in so doing put himself in grave danger. We made it as far as Dover before Robert Dudley found us.”

“I noticed that was missing from the official account,” William huffed. “I bet he never told her he’d found us at all.”

“Like as not, for then he’d be called to account for our whereabouts, and he did not know where we were.”

“You had vanished again, and I…suppose I had as well. No corpse and no woman to present, of course he would not have told her. Damnable rogue!”

Leopold was looking from one of them to the other. Then to the book and the marriage license, again and again.

“Leopold,” the Duchess said softly, laying her lacy gloved hand on top of his. “What if it is true? We owe Lord Melbourne an apology. And our thanks. For he has returned Drina to us. And at great personal sacrifice. He lay down his life to defend her.”

“And was handsomely rewarded for it!” Leopold gestured at William. “Look at him, dear Sister! He is thirty years younger than he was when he left, and about to marry the Queen of England!”

“And very deserving of it too,” she said even more softly. “Can you not see that he truly loves my daughter? And she him? I know it was not what we wanted, but after all, we wanted Albert for Victoria because we believed it was in her best interest.  But now, things have changed.  As much as I love dear Albert, I do not believe such a thing is possible any longer.  I believe Lord Melbourne will be a good husband to her. And in any case, she is bearing his child. What other option is there open to them now?”

“Uncle,” Victoria said quietly, “we are _already_ married. We were married when last I saw him. And since marriage is until death do us part, we are married _now_.  A public ceremony in this century is all that is required now, to satisfy everyone that our union is real and it is holy.  And a public ceremony _will_ take place as soon as can be managed. Unless you wish me to undergo divorce proceedings against the father of my child, such a thing cannot be brushed aside.  It is against the teachings of the Bible, is it not?"

“This man is not a criminal, can you not see?” persisted the Duchess. “He is a hero.”

Leopold swore, and Victoria, for the first time, began to taste their victory.

Uncle Cumberland, upon seeing the book, had grown quiet and dour, and Victoria recognized that he too had accepted defeat.

“Well, it seems clear to me as well,” said Sir Robert Peel, “That Lord Melbourne has performed an admirable service to the nation—of _our_ century that is—by returning the Queen to us, and not without considerable risk and danger brought upon himself in so doing. However incredible this tale is, there is as much proof as could be reasonably expected to substantiate it. Therefore the marriage certificate must also be considered to be valid, and since both parties are in agreement that they wish to remain married, Parliament and the Privy Council are prepared to support their decision.”

“Agreed,” said Wellington. “But a ceremony _must_ take place at the earliest opportunity.”

“I am willing today,” William said brightly, turning his green eyes to hers and smiling. “But I do think that is probably a little short notice for the rest of the world.”

“You may begin the necessary arrangements, Sir Robert,” Victoria said calmly, never taking her eyes from her husband. “And please have the Lord Chancellor summoned. I wish to meet with him at the earliest opportunity. This morning, if convenient.”

“It would seem, Lord Melbourne, that you have indeed won,” said Leopold, grinding his teeth. “If this fantastical story is to be believed, than as much as it pains me to admit it, we do owe you a debt of gratitude. And under the circumstances, it would appear there is nothing else to be done than what the Prime Minister suggests.” He met Cumberland’s eyes, who said nothing, but glowered miserably.

“Then it is all agreed,” said the Duchess. “But…Drina…you cannot marry a Viscount.”

“No. I do not believe I can,” she said, looking up at William again, and smiling into his eyes.

“I don’t need—or seek—rank,” he said to her.

“Well. Nevertheless, you shall have it, Husband.”

“Agreed,” said Sir Robert Peel. “Consider it a thank-you from us to you, for your valiant service to this _particular_ Crown."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned! Not much farther to go now. The rest will be coming very shortly.
> 
> As always I love your comments!


	50. Chapter 50--The Days of Wine and Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you hear that, Readers? It's the sound of church bells!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The days of wine and roses  
> Laugh and run away  
> Like a child at play  
> Through a meadow land toward a closing door  
> A door marked 'nevermore'  
> That wasn't there before
> 
> The lonely night discloses  
> Just a passing breeze  
> Filled with memories  
> Of the golden smile that introduced me to  
> The days of wine and roses--  
> And you..."  
> (Henry Mancini, 1962)

Chapter 50--The Days of Wine and Roses

 

“You look beautiful, Ma’am,” Harriet said, beaming. “Lord Melbourne will be so pleased.”

“Do you mean His Grace, the Duke of Gloucester and Edinburgh?” Victoria said playfully over her shoulder, as she stood taking in her reflection in the long looking glass. The long-awaited day had finally arrived. It had been the longest two weeks of her life.

“So I do,” she said, fussing with Victoria’s sleeves. “Force of habit, Ma’am.”

“He should be Prince Consort at least.  If not King Consort,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “I do not see why Parliament should be so difficult upon the matter. It makes no difference to them at all what he is called, for he has resigned from government.”

“Well, I suspect he still has many enemies, Ma’am. None of whom are too pleased that he is not only marrying you and become a Duke, but that he is now suddenly so much younger. Not to mention that his children will still be in the line of succession, behind the Duke of Cambridge that is.  And there are those who believe it is not the business of Parliament to create Kings.”

“I suppose that is true,” she said, spinning. “Are you sure my waist doesn’t look bigger?”

“Only a very little bit, Ma’am,” Harriet said. “Not really noticeable.”

“Not yet anyway,” she said with a sigh, rubbing her belly beneath her skirts. “But I suppose it is all worth it. For his sake.”

“I have never seen him so happy, Ma’am, truly! And Emma says the same. I do not believe his feet have touched the ground once in the whole of the time he has been back.”

She smiled ruefully. “I am glad for it, since he is now very much stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

“He could not be happier to be so. Oh, Ma’am! Truly you look so beautiful! I cannot wait to see his face when he sees you!”

Victoria smiled again and swallowed the butterflies that threatened to choke her. By mutual consent, for propriety's sake, William had returned to Dover House and had resided there since their family meeting almost a fortnight ago. Though he had spent much of the afternoon and many evenings at the Palace with her, he was absent from her at night.

Both of them had felt the loss, and though now that they were “engaged” in the eyes of most, it was no great scandal to be found kissing in darkened alcoves, or even in abandoned drawing rooms, or over her desk where she dealt with the daily box of dispatches, but it was still highly unsatisfactory not to retire with him into what she now considered to be their bedroom at the end of the day. It had left her frustrated and irritable, short-tempered in the extreme.

And as she had watched her belly continue its outward expansion, it had made her anxious. Without the reassurance of his sweet words and soft caresses every night, she wondered if he would find her much changed. What would happen when she grew enormous? Would he cease to find her attractive? Would he cease to desire her?  The thought left her cold. What if she lost his affections entirely?

“Don’t worry Ma’am,” Harriet said, putting her hands on Victoria’s shoulders reassuringly, “He will think you the most beautiful woman who has ever existed today.”

“Today, perhaps,” she said thoughtfully, hands on her tightly corseted waist, “But what about tonight?”

“Tonight even more so,” Harriet said, with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. “I happen to know that he is ready to climb the palace walls to get to you. I think tonight you will find him _ravenous_.”

“Harriet! However do you know that?” Victoria said in shock.

“You forget, Ma’am, that my husband and your bridegroom are very good friends,” Harriet said with a smile.

The two women giggled.

The door opened and Emma entered. “Oh!” she said, clutching her white gloved hands to her breast upon seeing Victoria.

“Does she not look beautiful?” Harriet said.

“Oh yes!” Emma blinked back tears. “White was the perfect choice, Ma’am.”

“It certainly was,” agreed Harriet.

“I am not so sure now,” Victoria said with a sigh. “Does it make my waist look larger, do you think, Emma?”

“Not especially, Ma’am,” Emma said, “You look radiant. William will not be able to keep his eyes from you.”

“I must confess I never thought I’d be in this position,” Victoria said thoughtfully, smoothing the dress over her abdomen again.

“But it is as you say, Ma’am, you and William were already married,” Harriet put in. “This is merely a public ceremony.”

“True. But the first time we eloped, and were wed in the middle of the night and in the greatest of hurried secrecy.  This is the first time I shall face him in a church, before guests.  And not have to spend our wedding night running for our lives and being half raped and watch him be held at knife-point and--" she broke off when she caught the sight of her friends' faces. 

"Oh Ma'am...what you both must have suffered!"  said Harriet, her eyes swimming.

"Well.  That was not the worst of it, as it turned out.  The worst was standing in that attic, watching as--"

"--Do not think on it anymore!"  Emma said, rushing to clasp her hands.  "It is over.  William is _safe_.  You and your child are _safe_.  And he will be waiting soon for you, at St. James'."  She smiled. 

Victoria took a deep, shuddering breath.  "Yes. Yes that is true."  She smiled.  "It has always felt real to me.  But before, there was no time to be together.  We could not even walk about together in the open.  In fact, I believe I spent the whole of our marriage on the run and dressed as a grubby boy!  Now...now I feel it so much more profoundly.  We will truly be able to be together as ourselves.  No more running away.  No more hiding.  I think I needed this day as much as anyone."

“It’s all so…fantastical,” mused Harriet.  “But romantic too. For had you not gone to Elizabeth’s court…”

“Yes. I doubt William and I would have ever married,” she said thoughtfully. “I would have allowed Mama and Uncle Leopold to bully me into seeing Albert and possibly even persuading me that I was in love with him. What a horrible thing to consider. What a terrible fate it would have been for us all.”

“But it did not happen, Ma’am,” said Harriet, who couldn’t bear to see Victoria out of spirits. “It all worked out the way it was supposed to in the end. And today…”

“Yes,” Victoria said with a smile and a deep breath of contentment. “Today is the best and most important day of my life.  Today I marry the man I love before the eyes of the world.   And I couldn't be happier."

There was a knock on the door. 

“Your Majesty, Skerrett has come to finish your hair,” said the Baroness, blinking back tears as she entered the room.

“Oh, certainly!” Victoria said, taking a seat at her dressing table. “Flowers only, Skerrett. Today I marry as a woman. Not as a Queen.”

"Yes Ma'am. I remember." Skerrett smiled and placed a crown of beautiful orange blossoms in her hair, securing it over her long, white, lacy veil. "Will that do, Ma'am?"

"Oh yes," Victoria said, turning this way and that. "That will do very well."

“And this too, Majesty. It is a gift just arrived this morning. From Dover House,” said Lehzen, handing her a small box, topped with a single white orchid.

She placed the orchid into her decolletage, and opened the box with trembling hands. First was a piece of paper addressed to her and folded inside. And underneath, a deep, red, ruby brooch winked at her from inside the box. She gasped as she fingered the large gemstone. It was round in shape, trimmed all around in sparkling diamonds, and utterly breathtaking.

Her ladies oohed and ahhed appreciatively as she took it out of its box and handed it to Skerrett, to pin to the bodice of her gown.

She opened his letter with trembling hands and read:

> _My Darling Girl (for so I may address Our Correspondence now),_
> 
> _I hope that the Contents of this box meet with your Approval. It is a small Token, to be sure, but the First of many yet to come in Our Life Together. You may consider it a small Wedding Gift. I have always longed to lavish such Gifts upon you, but Before, as it would have been unseemly and caused No End of scandal upon us Both, I had to content myself with Flowers._
> 
> _Do I ask too much if I bid you wear it Today? And henceforth every time you do, you will remember that you carry My Heart with you, Now and Forever. I Love You, and I look forward to Today with Great Anticipation, as well as to all the Delights that will follow…_
> 
> _I am, have ever been, and will always be~_
> 
> _Entirely Yours,_
> 
> _William._

“Oh, Ma’am! What a beautiful wedding gift!” Harriet beamed.

“A ruby. How lovely! And I believe they do symbolize passion and desire.” Emma said with a knowing smile.

“How very appropriate, considering our William has both in abundance for you, Ma’am,” Harriet added.

“Indeed, for I have never seen him so besotted. So beside himself with love.”

"No indeed!  Nor so happy as he has been this past fortnight.  He's almost giddy!"

"Yes, I have even caught him whistling!  It is so good to see."

"After everything he has suffered, to see him so happy..."

"Yes.  It is most gratifying.  There is no one who deserves happiness more."

Harriet and Emma smiled at each other in understanding. 

Victoria gazed at her reflection, fingering the beautiful deep red jewel, so stark against the white of her gown, so perfect, just like the man it represented.

 _His heart,_ he had said, _now and forever_.

She felt as if her own might burst.

"And you, Ma'am, we are so happy for you too."  Harriet said, blinking hard.

"Yes indeed!  You too have suffered so very much.  You deserve to be happy."

"Thank you both," she smiled up at them.  "Truly, you do not know how I missed you when we were gone into the past!  Nor indeed how I should have ever managed here without you!  Your friendship to me means the world!"  She embraced each of them lightly.

The door opened again, admitting the Duchess of Kent. Her ladies both kissed her cheeks and took their leave.

“Oh Drina! You look so charming! And what is this?” Her mother said, reaching a gloved hand to the brooch.

“A wedding present, Mama. From William.”

Her mother sighed. “So romantic a gesture. Rubies are very rare. And they represent such deep love.” She smiled. “I wish it had been dear Albert. But I think you and Lord Melbourne will be very happy together.”

“He is not Lord Melbourne anymore, Mama. He’s now the Duke of Gloucester and Edinburgh, remember?”

“Of course. But I think he will always be Lord M to you.”

“Of course he will,” she said smiling. “Oh Mama, I am so happy!”  She embraced her mother, smiling.

You are ready, Drina?”  Her mother fingered her veil, wistfully.

“I am. Oh, I am.”

“Then come, my daughter. Your Uncle Sussex is waiting to escort you.”

* * *

William Lamb, 2nd Viscount Lord Melbourne, Duke of Gloucester and Edinburgh and Knight of the Garter, would have happily raced to the front of the Chapel Royal in St. James’s Palace, but contented himself to slow, measured steps alongside his brother, Frederick Lamb. He could hardly believe this day had arrived.

Frederick had been incredulous upon first seeing his transformation, and then alarmed at all that had transpired, culminating finally in shock as William had asked him to stand as best man.

“I shall look like your father!” his brother had cried. “And you, my elder brother, look like my son!”

“But you are still my brother, are you not?” he had asked. “Please…otherwise I shall have no other recourse than to ask Palmerston, or worse, Wellington, to stand up with me! Much as I respect them both, I’d rather it be you. By rights, it should be you.”

Frederick had at last relented, to William’s relief. He glanced to his right briefly, and saw Emily with her husband, already with tears in her eyes.

Emily too had been much affected by everything he had relayed to her. She had cried over his appearance, and told him he was the spit of his younger self. When he had told them both of his and Victoria’s adventures in the past, and shown them their marriage license and the historical account, they had been rendered speechless. They still were not certain what had happened to himself and the Queen, but based upon his transformation alone, declared themselves certain that something miraculous had definitely taken place.

That seemed to be the general consensus among the peerage, the Privy Council and Parliament as well. Something, they knew not what, had definitely transpired that was not of this world. And many of them had agreed it was a sign from heaven not to be ignored that he was in fact destined to marry the Queen. Though they had balked at awarding him the title of Prince Consort, they had been more than in agreement about his elevation to the Dukedom of Gloucester and Edinburgh.

Not that he wanted to be named a prince himself. It was far too much. And he had always been of the opinion that if the people ever got into the business of making royalty, they could unmake them just as easily. He didn’t need to be a Duke either, as far as he was concerned, but consented to this as a necessity of sorts. It was far more palatable to the average person that Victoria be married to a Duke rather than a Viscount. And he was, after all, English. This had also been pointed out and well received. No more foreign princes, seeking to get rich on England's purse. And no continental interference with the running of government, as the bridegroom happened to be particularly well versed in constitutional and government matters, even as he promised to stay out of them from now on.

All things considered, their marriage was well received. But truly, as far as he was concerned they could all go to the devil, taking their titles and their quibbling with them. There was only one title he truly needed--that of Victoria's husband. _She_ was the true, the only prize he needed.

He had lived long enough to know very well how empty titles and even wealth could be.  It was all utterly meaningless without love.  Warmth.  Family.  Those were the things he had longed for, craved, needed.  For so long, it had seemed his lot in life to be condemned to spend his last years upon this earth alone, and leave nothing behind of himself in the world to say he had ever been there at all.

Until she had come into his life, like a rainbow after the rain.  And now, after they had been to hell and back together, here he was, against all odds. This day, he would marry the woman who changed everything for him, before the eyes of one and all.  To be able to claim her openly...to have her on his arm where no man could call her away from his side ever again.  It was all he could do not to weep for joy.

Finally they made it to the altar, and turned to face the back of the chapel. His heart was fluttering and his mouth was dry. Soon now. Very soon, she would appear. First though would be Peel, carrying the Sword of State. That was one duty he was thankful to give up. Though had things been different, he would have gladly carried the blasted thing for her. It would have ripped his heart to shreds to watch from the sidelines as she married someone else, but he still would have done so. There was nothing he would not do for his darling girl, after all. But oh, was he thankful that he was standing here instead of there!

There was a hush, and a whisper, and then…yes, here they came! He spared one moment of sympathy for Peel, before his attention was wholly captured by the vision that walked behind him, on the arm of the Duke of Sussex. And just like that, no one else existed for him inside that chapel.

He felt his breath leave him in a great whoosh. 

She glided toward him regally, dressed all in white, glowing in the Chapel light like an angel sent straight from God. His ruby, he saw with pride, flashed deep red on the front of her gown where it was affixed between her breasts. Her hair was crowned not with a jeweled tiara but with a simple ring of orange blossoms.  She was every inch his darling girl.  

He doubted even Adam would have looked upon Eve with such awe as he himself felt as Victoria made her way slowly to his side, her blue eyes holding his as ever they did with confidence, admiration, and love. 

He was dreaming. Surely he was dreaming. And he would wake any moment to find himself alone, and old, and in his chair in the library at Dover House.

 _If I am dreaming,_ he prayed silently, begging almost. _Please. Do not ever let me wake._

Then she stood at his side, as the Duke of Sussex, smiling, slipped her hand into his own, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. He did not deserve this woman. Not by any conceivable measure. Yet he would spend a lifetime endeavoring one day to be worthy. To feel worthy of her love and devotion.

This time things would be different, he vowed solemnly to himself. This time everything would be perfect--for her. He would make it so. She deserved the best he could give her, for now and for always.

Yet he could feel her anxiety, as if worrying about his feelings. He held her eyes, and allowed her to see deep into his heart. Things he had said before, and things he could possibly never find the words for passed between them in a moment, and then the ceremony began.

* * *

He stood there, waiting, the light of the Chapel’s windows gilding his dark curls, shining off the gold braids of the Windsor uniform he always wore so well. Victoria had known he would cut a fine figure today, but oh, how William Lamb always managed to blind her with his sheer male beauty.  But more than beauty.  She did not need to know him as well as she did to read his eagerness in the lines of his body, the way he stood as if on edge, waiting to explode into motion.  As she made her way slowly to his side, he held her in his hot, possessive gaze, as if no one else were there but the two of them.  No doubts.  No fears.  No looking back.  

Uncle Sussex gently passed her hand to William’s, and then melted out of existence. Everything around her faded as she gazed into his golden green eyes, filled now with such tender passion, and so much else unspoken that she could scarcely breathe. He flashed her one of his quick little smiles and she returned it.

Then the ceremony began. William gave her his vows in a strong, clear voice for all to hear, and then slipped his ring onto her finger. She gave him her vows too, in her most queenly voice, including the line about obeying him, which made him smile. Then she gave him her ring and slid it on his finger, and his smile became one of his rare grins.

His eyes were full of joy as distantly she heard them being pronounced man and wife.

He leaned down to her and kissed her with achingly sweet passion, a kiss she would never forget. He pulled away from her with great reluctance, then, unable to completely withdrawal from her, kissed her again for good measure.

* * *

William walked down the aisle with his new bride on his arm, so proud he thought he might burst the buttons of his Windsor uniform. Not that he’d mind, overmuch. He had never liked the blasted thing. It seemed to be designed for maximum discomfort. But Victoria had always thought it very handsome on him, so who was he to deny his Queen on their wedding day?

They made their way to the steps of St. James’, standing to receive the applause of onlookers and well-wishers who had come out to celebrate their wedding. His eyes scanned the crowd watchfully.  Crowds like this one made him nervous, even when they were filled with mostly happy people.  One never knew who might be lurking, or what mischief they might be planning.  And on his arm stood everything and everyone most important to him in the world--his whole little family.  He stood poised to act, in case anyone should pose a threat.

Then suddenly out of the crowd he noticed movement. And was startled to see one face in particular that he had thought never to see again. The tension in his body melted in shock. A very happy shock indeed. 

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

“What is it?” Victoria asked.

“I could have sworn I saw…” he blinked and shook his head. “Just over there,” he pointed.

“Who?”

“A ghost, My Darling. A very welcomed ghost from our past.”

Then the face appeared again. He had made his way to the front of the crowd, blond hair shining in the sun.

“It couldn’t be…” Victoria gasped.

“So you see him too?”

They moved together toward the face, now smiling at them widely.

“Well well,” said Brian of Medway, with a small bow, “It seems we do meet again—Your Majesties. And once again, I see congratulations are in order.” He handed Victoria a posy of flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well, indeed! Surprise!
> 
> Dear Readers, this is the penultimate chapter. One more to go to the end. It has been quite a journey, has it not? 
> 
> As always I love your comments!


End file.
